Hear no evil, See no evil, Kill no evil: A Winchester family vacation
by jmr27
Summary: The Winchester family is headed to South America for a road trip after Mary's return, and Sam and Dean have made a solemn promise they won't hunt while on vacation. Can they make it through encounters with Mayan gods, Mexican hunters, and a Costa Rican ghost without firing a shot? (OR, what should have happened instead of Season 12).
1. Chapter 1

**See no evil, hear no evil, kill no evil: A Winchester Family Vacation**

Welcome to the story! This is technically a sequel to "Stowaway," but if you haven't read that story you should be able to follow this one. All you need to know is that Gwen is Sam's daughter. She does not want anything to do with hunting, and Sam and Dean decided to take her on a road trip to South America in order to have some monster-free family bonding time.

Also, this story is an AU post Season 11, pre Season 12. Gwen shot Lady Toni in the bunker, Sam was never tortured, and the Men of Letters have no idea what happened to their operative. Mary is back form the dead, and still trying to figure out what she thinks of this strange new world she woke up in.

 **Summary:** The Winchesters are on a family vacation and are determined that NO HUNTING will occur on said vacation. The Men of Letters are trying to figure out what happened to Lady Toni, who was killed a the bunker (instead of abducting Sam). Meanwhile, the Latino hunters and Men of Letters are trying to figure out what the Winchesters are doing south of the border.

 **Chapter One: Headed South**

"'Cause I was headed north to Tennessee, and Old Red was headed SOUTH!" Dean punched his fist in the air with the last line of the song, and drummed on the steering wheel as the chorus faded out. "Now there's red haired blue-ticks all through the South. Love got me in and love-"

Dean halted mid-note. Sam was staring at him with the reproachful look that begged the question, 'who are you want what have you done to my brother?' "Country music Dean? Really?"

Little brother never missed the chance to point out that big brother's macho persona was not all he made it out to be.

Dean scowled and pointed an accusing hand at the radio. "We're in Texas, Sammy. It's country or Mexican. Besides." Dean pointed to the road ahead of them. The landscape was dotted with cacti and palm trees. "We are headed south."

In the back seat, Cass cocked his head, his expression puzzled. "Do you mean to imply that this family vacation is similar to a dog having-"

"Whoa! Cass! My mom is in the car!"

Mary's eyebrows climbed to her hairline. "You should have heard some of the music your father sang with me-"

"Who wants to listen to a mariachi band?" Dean's finger slapped the radio to flip the station and crank the volume in one move. The end of Mary's comment was drowned out by the sounds of guitar, trumpet, and a voice crooning about 'amor.'

Mary settled back with a satisfied expression. She had learned very quickly that the best way to make Dean's face turn red was to mention parent sex. Sam cast Mary an appreciative grin. It was good to have an ally against the big brother.

"What the heck is that!" On Cass's other side, Gwen pulled out an earbud and stared at the radio as if it had bitten her.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dean's voice dripped with false sympathy. "Is Pedro Fernandez not meshing with your X Ambassadors?"

Gwen's eyes narrowed.

"You know," Dean continued. "If I had my cassette collection, we'd have more options."

Sam's lips twitched, as if he had a few thoughts on the matter, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

"More options?" Gwen snorted.

"Yes, more options. Good options. Classic options. But no, someone moved it while we were loading up."

"We all have ipods!" Gwen held up her music player. "Dad has one, even grandma has one! You have one too. I know you do."

"Drivers aren't allowed to use headphones." Not that Dean generally cared about the finer points of traffic laws. But he could recite them all. "Besides, if you have headphones you can't share. This is a _family_ vacation."

"Yeah, and that's what the Bluetooth speakers are for." Gwen fetched something out of her back that resembled a hockey puck with a mesh speaker output on one side.

Mary reached across Cass to take the speaker and stare at it. "This can play music from your phone?"

"Yes, but I still haven't figured out what it has to do with blue teeth," Castiel said.

Mary looked at Gwen, as if expecting an answer to the angel's question.

"The Impala's speakers are better," Dean grumbled.

"No, actually the one by me is developing a crackle." Dean turned his glare onto his little brother, but Sam met his gaze calmly, and then reached forward to flip off the radio. "Turn it up, Gwen!"

"I miss my Zeppelin," Dean muttered.

"Yeah?" Sam had little sympathy. "Well I miss my flannel."

o0o

 _Back at the bunker…_

"Where's Dean? We're ready." Mary stood in the kitchen doorway with a bag slung over her shoulder. Gwen was next to her, loaded down with a duffle, a backpack, and a handbag. She listed to one side under the weight.

Sam looked up from the cooler he was packing for the road. "He went out to get supplies."

Mary shook her head. "No, he got back a few minutes ago."

"Ready to go!" Dean burst into the room. "Come one, Sammy! Time to get ready."

Sam stared at his brother, not quite sure he believed what he saw. Dean was wearing Bermuda shorts in a frightening shade of yellow, topped by a light cotton button-up splashed with tropical flowers. He had a fisherman's hat in one hand, and two duffel bags in the other.

"What are you wearing?"

"We're going on vacation. This is what people on vacation wear. Don't worry. I got some for you, too." Dean hefted Sam's duffel meaningfully, then his eyes narrowed. "Did you just put a smoothie in that cooler?"

"He made one for me to try, and I liked it," Mary said.

"Yeah, well" Dean's retort was cut short by Mary's pro-smoothie vote. He hadn't figured out how to say 'no' to his mother yet. "There better be room for beer."

"Aren't you driving?" Gwen asked. She was still dressed sensibly for the chilly Midwest spring, but her flip-flops hung off the side of her bag in anticipation of the South American heat.

Sam was still staring at the duffel Dean had brought him. "You packed for me?" Sam snatched his bag and opened it. No way was he going to leave home for a two-month trek and trust his brother had remembered everything he would need. He stared at the contents, then glared at his brother. "These are not my clothes."

"We are on vacation! That means no flannel and no fed suits."

"Flannel is not a work uniform, Dean."

"Well you're not wearing it in Mexico. Let's hit the road!"

"I have to pack." Sam stepped around Mary and Gwen toward the hallway that led to their bedrooms. Dean shrugged and examined the contents of the cooler. A moment later, Sam burst back into the room.

"Where are my clothes? My dresser is empty."

"Vacation, Sammy! You don't need your work clothes on vacation." Dean settled a six-pack on the top of the cooler. "We're ready!"

Gwen shuffled toward the garage, weighed down by her luggage. "I'll start loading up!"

o0o

 _Present_

Dean pointed to the Mickey-mouse face plastered across Sam's t-shirt. "That's one-hundred percent cotton. It'll feel great in the heat."

"It would feel great if I picked it out myself! Besides, we're not going to Disney."

"Boys!" Mary's voice cut across the bickering brothers. "There's a tollbooth or something up ahead."

"Ah! That would be the border." Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out two blue booklets, which he handed to Cass and Mary. "You'll need these."

Mary's brow crinkled as she stared at her own photograph. "I'm not sure how I feel about this."

"What? You grew up a hunter, it's not like you've never used a fake ID before."

"No I haven't." Mary said. "Most hunters don't."

Sam and Dean shared a look. Cass offered a few words of comfort. "It's ok, we won't be arrested. They do this all the time."

"Besides, he used mine to make the fakes, so it should be accurate." Gwen held up her own passport. Mary did not look reassured.

Dean leaned into the accelerator, making the Impala's engine roar. "Vacation, here we come!"

o0o

 _Pit-Stop. US dollars accepted. We speak English_! The sign was written in blocky letters that had once been bright but were now faded after years in the harsh sun. There was no need to spend extra money on an upgrade; the proximity of the border crossing and lack of other options ensured that the small gas station and convenience store kept up a steady business.

The proprietor, Enrique, had kept an eye on the border for the past twenty years. He saw every car that crossed the high barricade separating Mexico from the USA. Most of the travelers stopped at his place for gas and a bit of food before continuing to their vacation destination of choice.

If the newcomer thought that a traveler _was_ food, well, Enrique took care of it. He had a good eye for spotting monsters. It was amazing what American people-eaters thought they could get away with once they crossed the border. They were so excited to be out of Winchester territory, they thought it was open season south of the border.

They thought wrong.

"Yes, sir, best motel in town." Enrique slid a brochure across the counter toward the shifter. There was still a bit of slim on the young man's skin from his last molt.

But it wouldn't do to kill him in front of the tourists. His sister owned the motel, and Enrique had a set of master keys.

Of course, Juana would send him the cleaning bill if things got too messy.

The shifter's eyes grew wide, his head snapped around to stare out the window, and he dropped the brochure as if it had burned him. "Thanks, man, but I'm moving on."

Drat. Enrique reclaimed the brochure and set it back in the rack. What had sent the shifter off in such a panic?

Sunlight glinted off of the car that had pulled up to the pump outside. Black and silver, the car was an antique.

No. It couldn't be.

Enrique pressed his face against the window to get a better look.

It was. A '67 Chevy Impala sat there. Two girls poured out the back calling for the bathroom. A giant emerged from the passenger seat and came in to load up on pre-packaged snacks. A stocky man was pumping gas, his eyes flicking from side to side in a professional sweep of the landscape.

Looking for monsters?

Enrique processed the transaction for the taller man's snacks wordlessly. The ladies piled back into the car, and as Enrique watched them leave, the man in the middle of the back seat turned around to meet his stare with a pair of piercing blue eyes.

They said the Winchesters ran with an angel in a trench coat.

Winchesters. The American monster's version of a boogey-man. They said there wasn't a monster those two couldn't figure out how to kill. Some talked about meetings with God and the devil. Enrique wasn't sure he believed all that.

All he knew was that Winchesters took on the worst cases. The end-of-the-world kind of stuff.

Enrique ran back to his phone. His heart thumped as he waited for an answer. "Jose! Have you heard of anything big happening? Demon signs? Freak acts of nature?"

There was a shrug in Jose's voice. "Uh-no. I mean, I had to drown a succubus in a lake last week, but that's nothing new. Everything's quiet here. Why?"

"I just saw the Winchesters."

"Yeah? You on vacation up north?"

Enrique shook his head, then remembered Jose couldn't see him. "No. No, I'm at the station."

"You mean the Winchesters are here? In Mexico?"

"Yes."

Jose swore sharply. "What do they want?"

"I don't know! I thought after that whole sun-almost-died thing, we'd be in the clear for a little while." He should have asked when the tall one was purchasing his snacks. Enrique had no problem engaging werewolves and skin walkers in casual chit-chat. Why not a Winchester? "These guys never take on anything small."

"You have to find out what they're after!" Jose, like any hunter in the business, knew that Winchester's didn't travel this far for just another ghost hunt.

"They left already."

"Right. I'll take the bottom half of the phone tree, you take the top."

Enrique didn't waste time on good-byes. He cut the call and dialed the next number on his list. "Chavo! Hey, have you seen anything weird lately?

o0o

Can Sam and Dean manage to spend an entire summer without hunting? What will Mary think of vacation Winchester-style? What will Sam and Dean think of the Mexican hunters?

The song referenced is "Ol' Red" by Blake Shelton.

 **Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**NOTE** : A funny thing happened this week. I had decided to use this song, but was slow in writing the chapter. For the past three days, every time I turn on my car "Margaritaville" is playing on the radio. So. Here you go.

 **Hotel Margarita**

"Nibblin' on sponge cake, watching the sun bake all those tourists covered in oil." Mary waved her hands over her head and slowly swayed as she sang along with Jimmy Buffet.

A soft breeze swept in through the hotel window, which looked out on a sunny beach and clear blue water. People swarmed over the sand, dressed in floral patterns and waving drinks with bright umbrellas perched on the rims. Hotel Margarita was branded across the towels, the chairs, the napkins, and the server's uniforms. Dean had chosen the location not based on the number of stars (three out of five) but on the promise of the name. Which called for a song.

"Wasted away again in Maragaritaville." Gwen emerged from the bathroom in her bathing suit and flip-flops, tossed her jeans on the bed, and joined Mary on cue. "Searching for my lost shaker of salt!"

"Some people say that there's a woman to blame!" Dean's deep voice filtered through the door that joined the boys and girls' rooms. Gwen swung the door open and they all chimed, "But I know it's nobody's fault."

"You know, if I had my cassette's, we could listen to-"

"Ugh!" Gwen groaned and flopped on the bed, burying her face in the pillow. "I just moved them to make room! It's not like I abandoned your precious babies on purpose."

"I don't know what the big deal is. These things are much better." Mary hit a button on her phone, and the music died. "Besides, it was Sam who said we didn't need to bother to put that box back in the car."

Dean's lips parted, but the only sound that came out was a small gasp. For a moment, he looked stricken. "Sam?"

Sam came to the door, Castiel following close behind. "Alright, we found shampoo and toothpaste in the hotel store, so we should be set." Sam handed the items over the ladies, but paused when he saw his brother's death-glare. Despite the tropic warmth, the room was suddenly ice-cold. "What?"

"I need a drink," Dean declared. He shouldered past Sam and disappeared down the hall.

Sam's brow furrowed. "Did I miss something?"

"Something very, very bad just happened." Gwen's voice was gravely serious.

"Everyone looks ok," Cass said.

"Just you wait," Gwen warned.

"Why?" Mary asked.

Gwen fixed her eyes on her father. "He knows."

Sam's eyes went wide. "How? Who told him?"

"Dean was hassling Gwen for something you did." Mary's tone was firm, a mother interrupting a duel between her sons. "It's over and done with now, so-"

"I need to hide my stuff." Sam didn't seem to hear Mary. He exited the room, slamming the door behind him.

Castiel turned his attention to Gwen and Mary. "While normally I do not interfere between Sam and Dean, we will be stuck in the same vehicle with them for a long time. I suggest we have a strategy prepared. This could get pretty ugly."

o0o

 _Back at the bunker…_

Gwen glared at the small space inside the Impala's trunk. Sure, she had fit inside it well enough a year ago. But that was just her and a backpack. This was vacation, and she had _important things_ to bring with her. Sam had already loaded his duffel (packed by Dean and containing who-knew-what), Mary's duffle, and Dean's duffel side-by side, leaving an equal sized space to one side.

Thank goodness Castiel didn't need pajamas, toothpaste, or a change of clothes.

"This isn't going to work!" Gwen wailed. Her rolling suitcase fit just fine, and her pillow squeezed in on top of that (hotel pillows were _terrible_ ). But her beach bag, her backpack, and her purse were simply not going to fit.

"Do you really need all that?" Sam asked, pointing at her baggage dubiously.

Gwen rolled her eyes. "Clearly you've never been on vacation before."

"Not really, no."

Mary and Gwen stared at Sam and his matter-of-fact answer, and their faces both turned teary as they jointly said, "Awww."

Sam reached for the beach bag. "This is just toys and stuff, it can stay."

"No!" Gwen held fast to the bag and Mary reached out to grab the handle in support. "That is our makeup and hair stuff. It is completely necessary."

Sam pulled his hand back carefully. "Okay…Can it fit in the back seat?"

There followed a shuffle of bags and body parts as the Winchester family attempted to find a fit that got everything in, left the windows open for visibility, and left enough leg room to avoid cramps. Every item was removed, replaced, removed, replaced, and removed again. Finally Gwen stepped back with a triumphant nod. "Got it all in!"

Mary lifted up the cardboard box that had been shoved under the driver's seat in the space their shoes now filled. "All but this. Do you see anyplace-"

Sam's eyes narrowed in a calculating gaze, and he shook is head. "No, that's ok. We don't need those. Leave them."

Mary shrugged and set the box of cassettes aside. Dean entered the garage with a satisfied grin. "Alright, I completed the final check of all the wards and doors. She's sealed up tight. Nothing is getting in or out until we get back."

Sam mirrored Dean's grin, and tucked the box of cassettes out of sight behind a tire. "Let's hit the road."

Gwen pumped her fist in the air. "Vacation, here we come!"

o0o

"Welcome to the Hotel Margarita!" Dean emphasized the last word of the refrain and raised his beer in toast to the sign, visible over the roof of the hotel, that proudly proclaimed its allegiance to alcohol. It was why he had stopped here, after all.

He lay sprawled on a plastic lounge-chair under a shade tree, watching the more energetic vacationers run across the beach and splash in the water. A line of similar chairs filled with similar loungers stretched out down the shoreline to his right and to his left. Servers in shorts and white shirts stamped with the "Hotel Margarita" logo ran between the beach and the kitchen, fetching drinks and snacks.

A boy came to Dean's elbow as soon as he raised his glass. "More beer?"

Dean squinted at the kid. He couldn't be more than ten, but he had on a uniform shirt that declared his allegiance with the hotel. There was a pitcher of beer in his hand, and he held it up enticingly.

Dean knew drinking laws were different outside of the US, but- "Is that real alcohol in there?"

"Only the best, sir. Brewed here at the hotel."

Dean motioned for the boy to fill his glass. The amber liquid glinted in the sun. Dean frowned. Beach-side service was nice, but without a line of beer cans at his feet, he was sure to lose track of how much he'd had.

Not that he needed to keep a clear head for a hunt, because they weren't hunting. No. He needed a clear head to deal with Sam.

Sam who had left his cassettes at home _on purpose_.

This betrayal could not go unpunished.

The boy squinted at the computer in Dean's lap. "What are you looking for? Can I help you find anything?"

Dean glanced at the display, but Google had offered him nothing he hadn't seen before. Sam was familiar with all of Dean's usual tricks. An offense this deep called for something new. Something special. Something Sam would never see coming.

Dean turned back to the kid.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Fernando."

"Well, Fernando, you ever pull a prank?"

"A prank?" The Fernando looked confused.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, you know. Put shaving cream in a your friend's hand while he's asleep. Fiddle with the stereo settings. Something annoying. Really annoying."

"I thought you were looking for a monster."

That statement didn't quite follow the question Dean had asked. He set his beer down. How many had he had? There were no cans to count. "Say what?"

"You're the man in the big black car, right? Your last name is the same as the one on my dad's gun. Aren't you here looking for a monster?"

Dean's spine straightened and his chest puffed, an involuntary response. "You know about us?"  
Fernando nodded. "Oh, yeah! My uncles tell all kinds of stories about you. How you die a lot. How you nearly destroy the world a lot. You don't look that clumsy, but…" Fernando shrugged. "Every American hunter who comes through here has a new story about the Winchesters."

"Clumsy? I once wiped out an entire vampire nest all by myself. Who's telling these stories?" And how did Hunter's kid wind up serving beer at an American tourist trap?

Fernando just shrugged. "Yeah, but that didn't count because you had the Mark of Cain. It gave you superpowers. That's like Superman saying that he beat up a mugger. No big deal."

"It was totally awesome!" And far too easy. Dean frowned, and his chest deflated. "Ok, you may have a point."

"What are you hunting now?" Fernando's eyes were wide with anticipation of a new story. "Is it something really dangerous? Are you going to die again?"

"I am hunting for a good prank. The best prank. No, not a prank. Payback. Come on, kid, are you gonna try to tell me you never once took a chance to pull one over on these fat, lazy Americans?"

"My mom is on the cleaning staff. She can do anything you want to your brother's room."

"Now we're talking!" Dean lifted his hand for a high-five. "Name your price."

Fernando's face lit up. "Can I get your autograph? And a picture?"

"I thought I was just a lazy klutz who almost destroys the world a lot."

"Yeah, like the three stooges! Sam, Dean, and Castiel!"

"Don't ever call us that again, and it's a deal." Dean held out his hand to shake. "I've got a couple of stories for you…"

o0o

Fernando sat in the shade of the Hotel Margarita's groundskeeper's shed and counted his money. He had an autograph in his pocket and more cash than he could earn in a month. This was a good day.

"This is bad." Uncle Jose stood shoulder to shoulder with two other men and a woman. They hadn't bothered to put on hotel-uniform camoflague. They were hunters, and everyone knew it. Each was armed, each had scars, and each of them were worried. "It has to be big if they won't even talk about what they're after."

"Maybe they're really on vacation?" One hunter suggested. "They look like their on vacation."

"We can't be sure," the woman said. "We'll keep an eye out. Everyone in the country knows, and they're putting the word out further south. Teresa thinks she's seen signs down her way, but we can't be sure."

"You know the old men will want to know about this," Uncle Jose said.

There were sighs and eye rolls all around.

"Look, maybe they can find out something we're missing in all of their books. That's what Los Literatos are for."

The woman nodded. "You make the call. I'll check on the gods. Luiz, check on the blood suckers and flesh-eaters. Tell your brother-"

"Demons and spirits. Got it, boss." Luiz threw her a mock-salute. "We'll figure this out. We have hunters in every county. If the Winchesters are after something in our territory, we'll find it."

"Maybe we don't want to find it," their companion muttered. "Maybe we should stay far, far away from them. Do you know how many times they've died?"

In the sky above, thunder rumbled and the clouds started to turn black. The hunters shared a _look_.

"Ttaloc hasn't been restless lately, has he?"

Uncle Jose shivered despite the warmth. "It looks like he is now. We need the Winchesters out of here. Soon."

o0o

 **NOTE: Ttaloc is an Aztec god of thunder. The song is Margaritaville by Jimmy Buffet. Literato is the Spanish term for a 'man of letters'.**

 **Well, what did you think? Is Sam in trouble? Will Mary, Gwen, and Cass survive being caught in the middle of a prank war?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Backseat Blues**

Tlaloc was a survivor. He had survived the end of the Maya by changing his name. He had survived the end of the Aztecs by hiding underground. He had survived the Apocalypse by ignoring his invitation to the pagan gods' council in the States.

The sky used to be full of gods. Gods who liked to kill people, gods who liked to save people, gods who just liked sports. Now, most of them were gone.

It was a lonely life, but it was still life, and Tlaloc wanted to stay alive as long as possible.

Black clouds gathered around his shoulders, and his long, shuddering gasp rolled across the sky like thunder. There. On the ground far below: the black car.

The rumors were true. Tlaloc had heard the stories. He knew their names. Zeus. Chronos. Thor. Kali. Every god who got close was never heard from again.

Tlaloc had no intention of getting close. He planned to stay far, far away. But the road that carried the black car-Tlaloc knew where it led. The towers of stone still stood after all the years, proof of what humans could do if they put their minds to it. Tlaloc had forgotten who demanded the first temple, or why. The people didn't worship the gods anymore, but they still climbed the old stone temples. Took pictures of them. Talked about them and tried to understand their mystery.

It didn't matter that the temple-builders were long gone. Part of every god was bound to those stones. Those stones could be used to kill him.

He had kept quiet. He had done no harm. Why? Why were the Winchesters here?

Tlaloc skittered across the sky, knots of black storm clouds billowing up in his wake. Wind gathered in his wings to carry him homeward.

He was a god. He didn't pray. He didn't ask some higher being for help. He was the higher being. People prayed to him. But now he found himself sending out a silent plea to the universe. _Please don't let the Winchester's kill me!_

o0o

The Impala had never covered ground so fast. Usually, Sam and Dean drove for as far as Dean could manage in one go. When he got tired, they found a motel. If they really needed to make good time, Sam took a shift at the wheel before they bunked down for the night. With only two drivers, both of whom needed sleep, there was a need for frequent layovers.

Not so with five in the car, one of whom did not need to sleep. Castiel had taken the night shift. Mary was at the wheel now, and Gwen was itching for her turn.

Dean didn't know how he felt about so many people driving his Baby. He kept a close eye on the road and a close ear to her engine, just to make sure everything was ok. But Cass drove like a textbook, it turned out, taking turns at the prescribed speed and braking as Rules of the Road recommended.

Mom didn't. In her appetite and her taste in music, she was a reflection of Dean. But Mrs. Winchester drove like Sam. Hard on the brake, weaving across the road, and never quite able to keep the engine in that sweet spot that ate up the miles without burning down the gas so fast.

Unfortunately, by the time Dean realized this fact, Mama Winchester was quite happy at the helm and wasn't going to be moved until her turn was properly over.

Having Mom in the driver's seat was not the strangest part of this setup. Dean shifted underneath Gwen's legs, which were draped across his lap, in an effort to prevent his foot from falling asleep, and wondered again how he had landed in the backseat while Sam remained content in his usual perch up front.

Something about longer legs, and big puppy-eyes.

And possibly the fact that he was covered with glitter. He had played the sympathy card with the ladies for all it was worth.

The yell from the bathroom that morning had been spectacular, when Sammy looked up from his shower to find his hair, his skin, his _everything_ coated in sparkles. Shampoo, soap, shaving cream, Dean had left no hygiene product untouched. Sam was still trying to figure out how Dean had done it, after Sam had locked every item he possessed in the hotel safe for the night.

Ah, vacation.

Dean's eyes landed on his brother, who still glimmered in the sunlight, and he grinned again. Three showers later, Sam wasn't rid of the stuff.

"If you were a vegetable, what vegetable would you be?"

Gwen read the question off of her phone. Mary had lamented that morning how much they didn't know about each other, after she put peanut butter on her pancakes and realized from the strange looks that no one else at the table had ever seen such a thing before. Sam had mentioned a game that school counselors used to make kids talk about their feelings. Gwen had found questions online.

And now, apparently, they were all going to be part of a salad.

"Ew!" Dean grimaced. But an answer was required. "Ketchup!"

"Ketchup is not a vegetable," Sam and Gwen said and exactly the same time.

"A pickle," Castiel said.

Mary snorted. "Don't tell me that burger toppings are the only vegetables you know about." She eyed Dean through the rearview mirror, as if Castiel's bad diet was all his fault.

The angel explained, "I like pickles. They are a vegetable, and they aren't, at the same time. They were once a healthy, happy cucumber until someone put them in vinegar. Now they are sour, but people still like them."

"Awww." Gwen reached up and patted Cass on the head. "That's sweet and really sad. I'd be a salad mix."

"Why?" Mary asked.

"Because it's yummy!" Gwen said, smacking her lips. "You should try it sometime."

Sam smiled. "I'll go with that."

"Turnips."

Dean stared at his mother and even Sam made a face. "Turnips?"

Mary smiled. "Uh-huh! Your grandmother's recipe-" She trailed off with a sigh that had become all too familiar lately. The one that said she was remembering something Dean couldn't. He had worked so hard to hold onto memories of his childhood, memories of Mom, he hadn't realized how much he'd forgotten. "It's one of the few things I learned how to cook. I'll make them for you when we get home."

Dean sat back in his seat, uncertain what to do with this information. Hooray, family recipe. But-turnips?

"I actually don't like turnips, Mom," Sam said cautiously.

"You'll try these." Mary's tone was firm.

"How about we try the Best Fajitas this side of the Border?" Gwen had lifted herself from her lounging position and pointed out the window at a passing road sign. "Exit in three miles."

"No." Sam and Dean both immediately shook their heads.

"It looks nice!" Gwen protested, and her stomach gurgled in confirmation.

"It looks like a tourist trap," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "All fancy decorations and shiny floors, but the meat will be dry, the lettuce will be wilty, and the beer will be warm." He watched the passing buildings closely. "There. We'll stop at the taco shack." He pointed to a building with a lopsided roof that looked like it was ready to fall over in a strong wind.

Gwen crinkled her nose. "Um, that place looks like its ready to fail its next inspection."

"Exactly." Dean gave her a satisfied grin.

"It's the place the locals go to," Sam explained. "It's not on the road signs and they don't keep it looking nice just to keep the tourists out. Which means it's the best place in town."

Twenty minutes later they sat back from a pile of empty plates, bellies full.

"How do you two know how to find all the best places to eat?" Mary asked. Then she shook her head as if she should know better. Sam just shrugged and pulled out his laptop.

Gwen's head came up with a jerk. She had developed a sever allergy to hunting since she killed Lady Toni. It was half the reason they were on this little trip. Gwen practically leaped across the table to tackle Sam's laptop. "No work! We're on vacation!"

Sam raised his arms to defend his territory.

"No work. I'm just checking on the set up back home." He turned the screen so the rest of the table could see. The video camera feed from outside the bunker showed a sleek black SUV parked by the front door. A small army of men in suits exited and went to bang on the door, then took turns fumbling with a key in the lock.

"Men of Letters?" Dean's eyes narrowed. He had expected them to come looking for Lady Toni.

"Time to see if the wards hold," Sam said.

Dean gave Sam's shoulder a reassuring thump. "Don't worry Sparkles, they'll hold."

o0o

 _Back at the bunker…_

Usually, leaving the bunker was no big deal. Sam and Dean did it all the time. They would be gone for a few nights, for a week, maybe even two. But they had never been gone for over a month before.

Immediately after a hostile invasion. Two hostile invasions, actually. One by a supernatural being on the same level as God. The other by a snobby woman with a British accent and a key to the front door.

Sam and Dean were determined that was not going to happen again.

If they had any sense at all, they would postpone vacation and wait for the next wave to arrive. Because someone would be looking for the bodies.

So the bunker got a new security overhaul before the family Winchester departed on vacation. New wards. A new door. New locks. And three-hundred-and-sixty degree surveillance on the exterior.

Which was Dean why was halfway up a tree, trying to wrap a bark-colored wire around a branch while keeping his balance on the ladder.

Mary stood on the ground below, arms folded to her chest, head cocked as she looked up at her eldest son. She had offered to do this one. The branch best positioned to hold the camera was thin and waved in the wind. It wouldn't hold Dean's weight.

Dean was not about to let his newly-revived mother break her neck putting in security cameras, and insisted on doing it himself.

"Are you sure you don't want help up there?" Mary asked. If things were as they had been a mere week ago, when Dean was four and bawled for an hour over a scraped knee, there would have been no question. But it wasn't 1983 anymore. It was 2016, and Dean didn't do as he was told anymore.

"Mine's done!" Gwen came to stand beside Mary, the scratches on her arms bearing witness to her own recent battle with a tree. She took in the slanted ladder and odd angle of Dean's perch with a frown. "Um…that doesn't look good."

They could both see the entire thing play out before it started, and there was nothing to be done to prevent it. Dean leaned forward and rested his weight on the limb. It bowed under the pressure, but didn't crack. Dean wrapped the wire around near the joint, but it slipped from his grasp. Dean lunged forward to catch it on reflex, kicking the ladder out from under his own feet as he did. The ladder listed sideways, and Dean's feet dangled ten feet off the ground for a brief moment. Then the branch gave out with a loud crack, and Dean tumbled into the waiting bushes below.

"I'm ok!" Dean held up a hand and wiggled his fingers to prove they worked as Mary and Gwen dashed forward with identical shrieks.

Dean lay flat on his back in the brambles, a bit of blood trickling from a gash across his forehead and arms covered in scratches as if he'd just gone to war with a cat. Mary hovered, not sure what to do with this giant that was her son. His eyes met hers, and he managed a smile.

"Now what did we learn today?" Mary asked, as if he were still four years old.

Dean's grin didn't waiver. "Always listen to your mother."

By the time they hauled Dean to his feet, Cass was there to heal his bumps and bruises with a simple touch to the forehead. The angel gave Dean a look of fond exasperation. "I thought vacation meant I wouldn't have to do this for a little while."

Dean responded with a mischievous grin. "Not if vacation is done right!"

o0o

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Gwen squinted at the horizon. There were storm clouds gathering there. It seemed like a warning.

Sam knelt beside the Impala, a lug wrench in one hand. "Is he coming back?" There was a hint of panic in Sam's voice. As if Dean catching him in the act would be worse than when Dean realized what Sam had done after the fact. Which was inevitable, because it was the whole point of Sam's current course of action.

"Da-ad! I want to get to the next hotel sometime today. If Uncle Dean thinks the car is broken and stops to try to fix it, we'll all be stuck-"

Sam shook his head and gave Gwen a reassuring pat on the shoulder, shedding glitter as he did. "Don't worry. We're only thirty miles out. Dean will make sure you and Mom get to the hotel before he stops."

Sam turned back to the hubcap with a determined glare. The wrench moved with swift purpose, and soon the hubcap was off. Sam scooped up a handful of gravel to fill the empty space before settling the hubcap back into place.

"And after?" Gwen asked.

Sam raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"After Uncle Dean finds what you did?"

Sam paused, then shrugged. "He started it."

o0o

Inside the filling station was squeaky-clean and brightly lit, the air conditioning cranked to near-arctic temperatures. Mary rubbed her hands against her arms, which were pebbled with goose bumps. She wove through the stands of souvenirs, post cards, and emergency travel supplies, watching Dean fill his cart with a seemingly random collection of items. Fake money. Super glue. A can of dog food. Pantyhose. He had an unholy glint in his eye that did not bode well.

"What do you need all that for?" Mary asked.

"Payback."

Mary gestured toward where Dean had left his little brother in the Impala. Glittering in the sun. "I thought you already got that. We heard it very _early_ this morning."

"Yeah, and it won't take long for him to come up with something. The trick will be to hit him hard and fast when he does." Dean examined a box of laxatives and added it to the growing collection in his shopping cart.

"You and your brother. I read about something like this in your father's journal." Mary watched a bottle of Nair land in the cart. "He was bald for a month because of you two."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, he was so mad about that. You know I was aiming for Sam. I didn't know Dad had run out of his own shampoo."

"Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of."

o0o

 _Clunk! Clunk!_ Dean hear the sound the moment he pulled out of the filling station. It hadn't been there when they stopped. He had gone over the Impala very carefully before they left so that there would be no surprises on the road.

 _Clunk! Clunk!_ Dean's stomach lurched, and he turned the radio off, leaning forward to hear better. He knew every sound his car could make. This was not one of them. Dean eased off the gas and pulled over onto the shoulder less than ten minutes after leaving the filling station.

"What are you doing?" Gwen whined. She pointed up the road. "The hotel is that way!"

"I heard a rattle." Dean sent a pointed glare in Sam's direction. "I need to check it out."

"Now? We're only twenty minutes away from the hotel. Don't you think it can wait?" Sam flicked his eyes toward the backseat meaningfully. They had guests. It wouldn't be polite to make them wait while Dean hunted for the source of the noise.

Which was what his brother had been counting on.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "No, Sam, I don't think it can wait. I think that I will stay here on the side of the road and pull her apart piece by piece until figure out what you did. Unless you want to confess?"

"Me?" Sam's eyes widened in his favorite expression of innocence. Dean had seen the real thing too often to be fooled.

"Yes, Glimmer Man, you."

"Dean, you're going to make Gwen and Mom wait while you-"

"Not me, Sammy. You will make Gwen and Mom wait-"

"Hey, what about me?" Castiel asked. "I'd like to get to the hotel soon too please." The angel didn't have much leg room in the middle of the backseat.

Dean didn't care. If he let Sam get away with this once, there would be no winning this war.

"Sam, you have two options. I can go over Baby piece by piece and we can all wait right here while I do. Or you can tell me what you did to my car and we can be on our way."

A peal of thunder echoed across the sky.

"I can tell you!" Gwen called from the backseat.

Sam's head whipped around. "Hey!"

Dean cut her off with a gesture of his hand. "Nope. It has to be Sam."

"You stole my clothes, and I have glitter in places I don't want to think about!"

"You left my tapes behind, and now you've messed with my car. My CAR!" There was a line, the line had existed since the dawn of time, and Sam should know not to cross it.

Dark clouds were rolling across the sky, thick with rain.

Sam closed his jaw firmly and crossed his arms with a daring look at his brother. If Dean wanted to find out what was wrong with the Impala here and now, he could go ahead and get wet.

"I have a hostage!" Castiel's voice cut in from the back seat.

"What?" Sam and Dean both snapped at the same time and turned to the angel.

Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered old cassette tape. Dean's eyes grew wide and he reached for it, but Castiel drew his hand back and held up a warning finger.

"Call a truce."

"That's my tape!" Dean reached for the cassette again, but Cass stuck his butt to the seat with a flick of his fingers.

"It was a gift. Which means it isn't yours anymore. It is mine. I can let you listen to it if I wish."

"It was gesture of goodwill! This is a low blow, Cass!"

The angel didn't seem to care. "Call a truce, and you can use the tape for the rest of the trip."

Dean looked from the tape to his brother, and then to the radio. He hadn't been able to find anything besides mariachi music for the last hour. "Only if he tells me what he did to the car!" Dean jabbed his finger at Sam.

Castiel fixed his gaze on Sam, who shrank back against the dash. "He started it!"

"We don't care to started it!" Mary said.

"Just finish it!" Gwen said.

Dean glared at Sam. Sam glared at Dean.

"I can smite this tape, Dean. In fact, I can make it so this car never plays cassettes again."

Dean raised his hand as a shield over the music console. "You wouldn't!"

Castiel remained silent, but his point was clear.

"Ok, ok." Dean turned to Sam. "Truce?"

Sam ran a hand through his hair, shedding glitter. "Yeah. Truce."

Dean held out his hand, and Castiel handed over the tape. Dean turned to start the car. The engine roared to life and the sounds of Led Zeppelin filled the air for a happy moment. It was drowned out by a crack of thunder that rattled the windows.

"Let's go!" Gwen urged.

Dean shook his head, eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I can't."

A line of heavily armed hunters stood blocking the road. They were all dressed for the jungle, their ensembles decorated with knives, grenades, flasks of holy water, crosses, hex bags, and symbols and talismans no Winchester had ever seen before.

Only one person was unarmed; a boy about ten years old. He stepped forward with a cheery wave, heedless of the fat raindrops that had started to fall.

"Fernando?" Dean muttered.

"You know that kid?" Sam asked.

A grin tugged at Dean's mouth as he looked sideways at his brother. "Yeah. His sister has a thing for glitter, and his mom has keys to every part of that hotel."

Sam's glowered. "That's how you-!"

"Truce!" Three voices chorused fro the backseat. The cassette stuttered and stopped.

Both Sam and Dean held up their hands in surrender.

Fernando tapped on the window and Dean rolled it down. The kid was grinning from ear to ear. "Mr. Winchester, this is my papi." He pointed to the man at the center of the group of hunters. "He wants to talk to you."

 **Please review if you enjoyed this!**


	4. Chapter 4

**It's Tough to Be a God**

"You know, you could have started by saying you'd buy me a drink, and do the whole intimidation thing later, after you decided you didn't like what I had to say." Dean's tone was amiable as he sipped at his beer. He and Sam sat across from Hector and Teresa, who appeared to be in charge of the little band of hunters who had met them on the road. They had all taken shelter from the rain in the hotel's bar and lounge.

The place looked like a rainbow had collapsed inside. Color coated everything in a stunning mix that whispered gently to American tourists: T _his is a nice place. It's ok to relax. Unwind. Open your wallet. Spend all your money_. There was even a stage up front, where a man with sleek black hair, a sharp suit, and a charming grin crooned popular songs with a backup chorus of tropical birds.

"Besides, I told your little spy there everything." Dean pointed across the room at Fernando, who had claimed a table for himself to sip at his cola and sort through the goodie bag Dean had handed him. With the angel-enforced truce, he wouldn't be needed any of the supplies he had picked up, and Dean figured the kid could put them to good use. The greedy look in his eyes said Fernando had a few ideas already.

"You really expect us to believe that you drove all this way for a vacation?" Hector's eyes were narrowed in suspicion. He bore a strong resemblance to his son, Fernando, but without any of the innocent charm. His arms were corded muscle, not an ounce of fat, and his knuckles bore the callouses of frequent fights. Much like Dean's.

Sam gestured to the tourists who filled the room. "There's a lot of people here who have traveled further. Like them." He pointed to small group of Asian tourists with cameras dangling from their necks, chattering away in something that sounded vaguely Chinese.

"Yes, well they never opened a gate to hell, or killed a demon, or started an apocalypse, set loose Leviathan, or unlocked a primordial evil," Teresa said. She didn't look at intimidating at Hector, but she moved with a smooth strength that spoke of years spent taking down monster bigger and stronger than herself.

"Yeah, Fernando seems to have heard some stories that don't quite get things right." Dean didn't care how impressive these hunters looked. He knew he had taken on bigger and nastier.

"Oh? You didn't do all of that?" Teresa asked.

"No, we did, but-"

"So why shouldn't we be worried when you roll into town, Mr. Winchester?" Teresa crossed her arms and waited for an answer. Her glare killed the smart-aleck remark on the tip of Dean's tongue.

"You have a very good point." Sam cut in with his familiar peacemaking tone. "It makes a lot of sense. We do tend to attract a certain kind of trouble."

Hector snorted. "You can say that again."

"But we're here on vacation. I promise that's all. There's nothing bad happening that you need to worry about."

"No hunting is the rule." Castiel joined them, tossing two room keys onto the table before he sat down in the last empty seat. Both Teresa and Hector shifted slightly at the angel's entrance. Awe? Fear? Annoyance? Who could tell?

Castiel glanced up at the singer on the stage, who had launched into an energetic rendition of "You're Welcome." "Who is that?"

"Huey," Teresa said in a tone of exasperated fondness. "You don't need to worry about him. He just likes to show off. You don't bother him, he won't bother you." Her eyes narrowed as she considered the angel.

"Something wrong with my friend?" Dean growled.

Teresa shook her head. "No, I just-I thought an angel would look different."

"Haven't you seen a few by now? I mean, a few years ago after they fell they were everywhere."

"They didn't land here," Hector said. "We pooled our resources, and Los Literatos put up a spell to keep them out. The angels only landed north of the border."

"A spell to keep angels off an entire continent?" Dean didn't even try to keep the disbelief out of his tone.

"Los Literatos?" Sam asked, stumbling over the Spanish word.

"Yes, you know. Men of Letters. They say you moved into their Kansas house."

"Yeah. Yeah we did." Sam leaned forward, an eager expression on his face. "We're legacies. Our grandfather was a Man of Letters. We didn't know there were any left. Do you work closely with them?"

"Ever since the Apocalypse," Teresa said. "It took all we had to get through that. Demons everywhere, breaking seals and wreaking havoc. It brought us together."

Dean grinned. "Hear that, Sammy? Something good came out of the Apocalypse."

"The Literatos want to meet you," Teresa continued. "They can be here in a couple of days, or meet you at your next stop."

"No." Dean's answer was swift and firm.

"No?" Sam and Teresa both said as the same time.

"Dean, of course we want to meet them!"

"The British version shot you in the leg, Sam!" Dean didn't want to think about what could have happened if Gwen hadn't been in the right place at the right time, to shoot Lady Toni. That was part of why he had been happy to take the girl out of the country. He didn't know if anyone would come looking for the body.

"Don't worry, they don't like the Brits," Hector said with a shake of his head. "Those guys are creepy. Los Literatos are different."

"Well, we're on vacation so no thanks," Dean said.

"Dean!" Sam was not giving up. "This is a great opportunity! A spell that can keep angels in one place? Something like that could be useful. No offense, Cass."

"It would be very helpful," Cass agreed. "

"The British are trying to get into your bunker in Kansas. Los Literatos could help with that," Hector offered.

Dean glared at Hector. "How did you know that?"

Hector shrugged. "Los Literatos keep an eye on the British. We were all informed when they landed. Your home is not safe."

"No, our home is fine." Dean sat back with his arms crossed. "Sammy, show them."

Sam pursed his lips, but pulled out his laptop and called up the surveillance camera feed. His expression grew tense with concern. "Um, Dean. It looks like they've moved up to C-4."

Hector and Teresa crowded around the screen to see a man in a suit affix a square of gray putty to the door, then run back and duck behind a bush. The team cowered, ears covered, as flame engulfed the bunker door. When the smoke cleared, there wasn't even a scratch on the metal structure.

Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. "See, I told you. Nothing to worry about."

o0o

 _Back at the bunker…_

Dean stepped back from the curly symbol he had painted on the bunker's door. It looked like a fancy F with a question mark floating above. He surveyed his work with a satisfied nod and set the paintbrush aside. "Perfect."

Cass cocked his head, squinting at the symbol. "I don't recognize this. It is no language I know. And I know every language."

"It's not a language, it's a symbol," Dean said. "It is a ward that can protect against anything."

"Such a ward does not exist," Castiel said.

"It does now." Dean cupped his hands around his mouth and called, "Mom! Gwen!" The ladies were perched on ladders at different corners of the room, copying symbols out of books to replace the wards that had been burned away by Amara. "Come here! I want to show you this."

Mary gave the symbol the same look Castiel had. "I don't recognize that." She glared at the heavy tome in her hands. "But then I don't recognize any of these."

"What's so special about this one? We don't have to know what they mean for them to work, right? Because I'm not memorizing any of this stuff." Gwen held her book away from her as if it was contaminated. "Will we be done with this soon?"

"Sure. I just want you to pay attention to this one." Dean framed the symbol with his hands. "This is a ward that can protect against anything. Angels, demons, the darkness, witches, it doesn't matter who tries to get into the place. If they aren't one of us, they won't get through."

"Nice! So then why did I spend an hour painting the rest of the walls?" Gwen gestured to the Enociah wards dotted across the room, paint still damp.

There was a pause before Dean said, "You needed the practice."

"Um, what part of 'No Hunting' did you not get?"

"Even if you don't want to hunt, you need protection. You never know what could try to get into your home." Mary's face as dark, but there was a glint of hope as her eyes settled on the symbol Dean had pointed them to. "A ward that can protect against anything?" She wasn't sure it was possible.

Dean wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Yes." His tone was warm, certain. "Believe me on this one. Ok?"

Cass turned back to the ward with narrowed eyes. "Sometimes belief is the most important thing." He cast a sideways look at Dean, who favored him with a wink.

"I've got the cameras for outside!" Sam entered from the garage, his arms full of hardware. "I just need the right connectors. Who wants to help?"

"Apparently I need the practice." Gwen shot a glare at Dean, and then took a camera and headed outside. Mary followed.

Sam frowned at the door as they left. "Dean, is that-?"

Dean held up his finger in a shushing gesture until the ladies were gone. "Sh! Sam, don't blow it!"

"Blow what? Why did you put a tulpa on our door?"

"He said it is a ward that can protect against anything. I sense some power in it now, but there was none before." Cass put his hand against the symbol, eyes narrowed. "Interesting."

Sam raised on eyebrow and gave his brother a questioning look. "A super-ward? Dean, that's not possible. It's a tulpa."

"Exaclty. Believe in it, Sammy. Mom and Gwen do." Dean's face was lit up in a smug grin.

"That is never going to work!"

"Not with an attitude like that it won't."

o0o

"We have a ward that protects against anything," Castiel said. It was their new mantra. Every day they reviewed the footage from the bunker and asserted that the ward on the door would keep it safe.

"There's no such thing," Hector stated.

"If anyone could find one, it would be the Winchesters," Teresa muttered. "Look, the Literatos could really use a spell like that. We could use a spell like that. And the locals around here, with you in town they're a bit-"

"No!" Dean held up his hand to stop her. "We are on vacation. No hunting. No Men of Letters. They can call us after we cross the border again."

"Dean!" Sam started in again. "To meet Men of Letters would be-"

"No!" Dean pointed his finger at his brother. "You promised Gwen. No work."

"But-"

"No!"

Onstage, Huey had moved on to a new song. He tap-danced across the floor and crooned, "It's tough to be a god! To treat where mortals have not trod!

Castiel's eyes were fixed on the stage. Huey struck a pose and fireworks flew from his fingers tips as he belted out the next line. "Who am I to bridle if I'm forced to be an idol?"

Teresa tried again. "Look, there are some things about the way things work around here that you might want to know-"

"If there were a monster, spirit, or pagan god around here, we wouldn't even want to know about it." Dean's tone left no room for argument. His head bobbed in time with the music and he signaled the waitress for another beer. "That's what vacation is for!"

The singer now had a trio of songbirds hovering near his shoulders. They chimed in with the last few notes in perfect harmony. "So sign up this here god for paradise!" The birds flew high into the air, then turned into a shower of flowers that cascaded over the cheering audience.

"You wouldn't even want to know if there were a supernatural being of immense power in the same room, would you?" Cass asked.

"Nope." Dean shook his head and downed half of his next beer.

o0o

Vacation or interrogation?

There was no reason that Gwen and Mary couldn't sit back, enjoy their drinks, and watch the show like regular tourists. In the crowd, it wouldn't be hard to pretend the hunters weren't there. They only had eyes for Sam and Dean. The boys were the famous ones. The boys were the experienced hunters. The boys could handle this.

Except something was up. That much was obvious from the hunters' dramatic appearance on the road. They weren't likely to be entirely forthcoming with Sam and Dean. Play it close to the vest, keep a few bits of information to themselves. They were experienced hunters, after all, and hunters were good at lying. It came with the job description.

Could vacation include interrogation?

Gwen and Mary went to fetch themselves drinks from the bar, shared a look, and moved as one away from the hunter's table and to the back corner where Fernando had tucked himself away from the grown ups. Dean had handed him his bag of supplies with the simple instructions to 'get creative,' and it looked like Fernando was taking inventory.

Mary plunked herself down on one side, Gwen on the other, both with identical smiles. Fernando smiled back.

"My sister is in so much trouble when I get home." He sounded far too happy about this fact. With one sweep of his arm, Fernando cleared the items from the table back into their bag.

"Better her than us," Gwen said. "So, you know all about hunting and monsters and stuff? You don't seem scared of any of it." Gwen remembered nearly losing the contents of her stomach at her first sight of a demon. This kid just acted as if the end of the world and monsters were as common as tacos and tortilla chips.

Fernando shrugged. "If anything bad comes near my town, my Papi kills it. Someday he will teach me to kill them, too. But for now I just learn how to shoot the gun and spot monster tracks. And keep the gods happy."

"Gods?" Mary asked. She had heard rumors of hunters who encountered pagan gods.

"Sure. They're pretty ok most of the time, but it's not good if they get upset." Fernando gestured to the window, flecked with rain. "I hope you leave before we have a hurricane."

Mary and Gwen both turned to stare at the window for a moment. The storm clouds, the thunder, it had all happened with such convenient, dramatic timing.

"Um-we were going to stay until the weather clears so we can climb the pyramids. Wait-do you mean the gods are scared of my dad?" Most other things seemed to be, so it made a certain kind of sense. But still. Gods. "Wait-do you mean the Mayan gods are real and are still here?!" Gwen was halfway out of her seat. Her eyes swept the room as if expecting to see a stone statue come to life on the spot.

"Yeah, and they think your dad came here to kill them," Fernando said. "Wait-Dean Winchester is your dad?"

Gwen dropped back into her seat with a groan and a roll of her eyes. "No! Sam is my dad! Why does everyone always think its Dean?" A glance back at the hunters' table showed that Dean was making headway with the waitress, his hand hovering near her rear while she bent forward to show far more of her cleavage than was necessary while refilling his drink. "Never mind."

"Well, we're not here to kill anyone," Mary said firmly. "We're on vacation. We really just wanted to see the sights. Can you tell the gods that? They don't need to scare us away with a storm. We'll leave faster if the weather's great and we can get our sightseeing in." Mary didn't quite believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. Watching her dad exorcise demons was one thing, but asking gods to give them good weather? But here she was, back from the dead with both of her sons now older than her and a granddaughter headed to college. It had been a strange month.

Somehow, she had thought this vacation would help get things back to normal.

Apparently, she had thought wrong.

"Tell them yourself." Fernando pointed toward a table across the room. Its lone occupant was hunched over a glass of liquor, furtively watching the hunters' table. He had long black hair that fell in his face and a blue raincoat that fell past his knees. Every inch of him was dripping, but there was no puddle of water at his feet.

Mary grabbed Gwen's hand and squeezed hard. "Oh. My."

"Um-didn't the Mayan gods demand human sacrifices?" Gwen's knuckles were white against her skin, and her heart was suddenly hammering. "You know what? I don't think I need to see the pyramids."

"Oh, don't worry. We got rid of the bad ones a long time ago. We only kept the nice ones." Fernando raised a hand in a wide wave and called across the room. "Hey, Tlaloc! Over here!"

The dripping man flinched, startled, then deflated when he saw Fernando's grin. He snatched up his glass and shuffled toward them, eyes always fixed on the hunters' table.

"Fernando! What's going on? Do you know who your dad is talking too?" He asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Tlaloc?" Gwen knew that name. Dad had spent the first half of their day on the road reading off a list of the gods of this area. Tlaloc used to be called Chaac, and he wasn't a 'good guy.' "Didn't the Aztecs and Mayans sacrifice kids to you?"

Tlaloc's face turned down in a fierce scowl. "That was not my idea! I said I liked kids! They're nice! Fun! Good to play with! Not for eating!" He shuddered. "Kakao and Kulukan laughed so hard the first time it happened. It took a thousand years, but those assholes finally got what they had coming!"

"Tlalco is our friend." Fernando patted the dripping man's shoulder. "Come on, amigo! You know Teresa would never let anyone hurt you!"

"But-they're The Winchesters!" Tlaloc hissed. "It's what they do!"

"Actually, they're here on vacation," Mary said. "You see, those two boys are my sons and we just wanted to have some fun. Sam and Dean aren't killing anyone. They promised."

Tlaloc took a deep breath and threw a sideways glance at Fernando. "You trust these people?"

Fernando nodded.

Tlaloc blew out his breath, and the dripping slowly ceased. Outside, the rain slacked off and a ray of sun peeped through the clouds.

"Did they really come to see my temple?"

o0o

"Dad! Uncle Dean!" Gwen wove through the crowd with Fernando and a damp stranger in tow. "You will never guess who I met."

"Fernando!" Dean held his hand up for a high-five. Then he glared at the pamphlet in Gwen's hand. "Gwen, I don't care if the tour guide says its only a thousand steps. I am not climbing to the top of that pyramid. Hunters don't do cardio."

"You don't do cardio," Sam said. "And you are going to the top." He nodded to the damp man in blue. "Is this a friend of yours, Gwen?"

"No, we met to day, but-"

The lights across the room dimmed and all conversation in the room collapsed into silence. All eyes turned to the stage, where Huey stood illuminated by a single spotlight. "Alright, everybody. It's your turn!" His voice boomed over the crowd, and his grin stretched from ear to ear. "Karaoke hour is open. It's vacation, you're in the realm of the gods, and this microphone is magic! Come one, come all, and sign as you have never sung before! Who wants to start us off?"

Gwen's eyes grew wide, and she flung her hand into the air. "Here! Over here!" She grabbed hold of Sam's hand and dragged him forward. "Dad, this is gonna be great!"

Sam lurched forward, propelled by the force of her enthusiasm. "Um-I don't really-"

"I haven't heard you sing yet." Mary took Sam's other hand. "Please?"

"No!" Dean's reflexes were too slow. Gwen deposited Sam on stage and then scampered back to Dean with a pleased grin.

"Why?" Dean massaged his ear in anticipation of the pain to come.

Gwen winked. "Just wait."

Castiel shook his head. The angel didn't have much in the way musical taste, but even he knew. "This is not a good idea.

"Oh come on, I've heard Dean sing. Sam can't be that bad," Mary said.

On stage, Sam blinked dazedly in the spotlight, as if he still wasn't sure what had happened. He frowned at the microphone in his hand. Huey stepped back, picked up a guitar, and played a few introductory chords with an encouraging smile. Sam looked at the lyrics on the teleprompter. "Uh-Would you like to swing from a star? Uh-Carry moonbeams home in a jar? And be better of than you are. Or would you rather be a mule?"

As he stumbled into the lyrics his voice gained confidence. He hit each note with perfect pitch, and the sweet tones had the crowd swaying in time with the music.

"Awesome!" Gwen clapped her hands silently and turned to Dean. "You're next."

Dean's hand moved toward his belt, but there was no gun there. He had left it in the trunk. Because they were on vacation. The first day on the road, he had missed the familiar weight of it, but today he had forgotten it wasn't there. He closed his hand into a fist. There was a spear on the wall. Decoration. Probably made out of plastic. Still, it was about three steps away. Dean shifted sideways. "Ok. What's going on. Someone had better start talking, and quick!"

"Whoa!" Teresa held up her hands on a calming gesture. "It's ok! Your brother is enjoying himself."

Dean pointed at the stage and his brother, who had an oblivious smile on his face as the let the music carry him away. "That should sound like nails on chalkboard. Sam can't sing. So what is going on?" He took the last two steps sideways and snatched the spear off the wall. It was light, hollow, plastic. With a growl, he tossed it aside and grabbed a beer bottle instead.

Behind Gwen, the damp man squeaked and tried to make himself look as small as possible.

"I told you!" Tlaloc hissed at Fernando. Thunder shook the room.

"He's not a threat!" Teresa said, her hands raised between Dean and Tlaloc, not quite sure which she was speaking to.

"That's not an explanation!" Dean growled.

"Pagan gods," Castiel said. "There are at least five in the room. They have been watching us since we arrived. Except him." Cass waved to Huey, who continued to play guitar with his eyes closed while Sam sang.

Dean turned his glare on the angel. "You could have mentioned that a little sooner!"

Cass turned to his favorite human and suppressed a sigh. "You said you didn't want to know. They don't appear to be causing any trouble."

"No trouble!" Tlaloc held his hands up to show that they were empty. "No trouble here!" He placed both hands on Fernando's shoulders.

"We'd prefer if you didn't upset our gods, Dean. We all get along just fine," Teresa said. She shifted to put herself between Dean and Tlaloc. "They don't kill anyone, and sometimes they can be a big help."

"He promised us a game of soccer on the old Mayan field tomorrow." Gwen's eyes were dancing with delight. "Playing soccer with the gods! Where the game was invented!"

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with this supernatural stuff."

"I don't want to kill things." Gwen took the beer bottle out of Dean's hand. "But these guys are great. I mean-look." Gwen gestured to the stage, where Sam warbled through the last lines of the song with both hands raised in the air and a smile on his face.

"All the monkeys aren't in the zoo, every day you meet quite a few. So you see it's all up to you. You can be better than you are. You could be swinging on a star!"

The crowd burst into applause as Sam hopped off the stage, a slight blush creeping into face. Huey, aka Huehuecoyotl Mayan god of song, held up the microphone with a twinkle in his eye. "Who's next?"

Gwen took hold of Dean's hand. "Come on, Uncle Dean. As long as Huey is on stage with you, you can sing like a rock star. Just pick your song."

 **What song would Dean pick? Huey was singing "Its tough to be a god" from the move The Road to El Dorado and "You're Welcome" from Moana. Sam sang "Swinging from a star".**

 **Will the Men of Letters make it into the bunker? Will the Literatos catch up to Sam and Dean?**

 **What do you think? Reviews are what keep me writing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Don't Take Your Guns to Town**

"What do you mean they left? You were supposed to invite them to meet us." The voice on the phone was clipped, with the accent of one who had spent too much time in academia.

"I told them you wanted to meet. They weren't interested." Teresa didn't offer an apology. "They wanted to sing karaoke and climb the pyramids. We had a great party."

"A party? That wasn't the mission!" Was there a hint of envy in that tone?

"It wasn't what you wanted." Teresa wasn't worried about upsetting the old man. He'd been used to giving orders for far too long. Most of the Literatos were getting better about that sort of thing, but a few found old habits hard to break. "I completed my mission. I got the Winchesters out of my country without any natural disasters or inter-dimensional catastrophes. I call that a success. So what if we had some fun on the way?"

"You are certain that they aren't on a mission? They're on vacation?"

"Absolutely, sir. It was quite a party." Teresa grinned at the memory. "Of course, that always happens when the gods show up."

"Can you keep and eye on them a little longer?" Good, a proper request instead of an order. The old man was trying.

"Sir, they're not interested in a meeting. Not right now. Something about their mother being back from the dead, and she doesn't like to hunt."

"Back from the dead?" There was a pause, and then a snort. "Winchesters. Well, we'll have to try a different approach. The British are still trying to get into that bunker, and we don't want them getting a foothold in America. Once they clean up the States, where do you think they'll head next?"

Teresa sighed. They had a point. No one wanted the British Men of Letters getting too close. The fact that they had finally left their island was the most unsettling event that had happened since the apocalypse. "I can keep an eye on them a little longer."

o0o

The breakfast table was full, courtesy of the hotel's all-you-can-eat buffet. Dean sat in front of a giant stack of pancakes, garnished with sausage, bacon, and eggs. His fork cut through the stack as easily as a machete through a vampires neck. Sam's choice was more conservative, an egg-white omelet and a bowl of fresh tropical fruit. Mary's pancake stack was slightly smaller than Deans, but her pile of bacon was larger and vanishing fast. Gwen had already vanished her danish and eggs and was examining the large stack of brochures she had collected from the lobby. They were all crowded into one corner of the table, bumping elbows as they negotiated the small space.

Castiel had claimed half of the available surface for his own breakfast. He had selected a generous portion of everything that the hotel buffet had to offer, and was moving through each one at a snail's pace. He stopped to savor every bite, eyes closed, a satisfied smile softening his entire face.

"How long is that spell supposed to last?" Sam asked. He was concerned about the sheer volume of food the angel had ingested since they'd left the pyramid of the gods.

Turns out pagan magic works on angels just fine, and Mayans don't like to party alone. One had offered Castiel a spell that allowed him to taste food as a human does. The angel had accepted the offer before either of the brothers could warn him against it.

What could be the harm?

Castiel opened his eyes, but refused to speak until he was done chewing and had washed it all down with a glass of milk. "Until we cross the border."

"We crossed the border into Costa Rica yesterday," Dean said.

Castiel held a hand to his chest and stifled a small belch. "Hm. Well. I think he may have meant the American border. Vacation-"

"Vacation is no vacation if you can't even get drunk!" Gwen raised her hands in the air in imitation of the god of booze. Dean couldn't remember half of that night, but Gwen, apparently, remembered it all.

In detail.

Which she didn't hesitate to share.

"Exactly." Castiel smothered the end of the word in mouthful of French toast.

Dean pushed his plate away with a grimace, and Mary claimed the last of his bacon. "So, Gwen, what's on the agenda for the day?"

Gwen held up a brochure that pictured a young man dangling from a very thin set of chords, his mouth open in the wind-smushed yell of delight common to most roller-coaster photos. "Zip-lining!"

Dean put a hand on his stomach. "That seems awfully-"

"High?" Sam asked with a knowing smile. "You don't have to come."

"Why wouldn't I come?"

"You're afraid of heights," Sam said.

"I am not!" Dean's denial sounded flat even to his own ears.

"You're afraid of airplanes."

"That's flying! It's different."

"Uh-huh." No one at the table was convinced.

"Aaiiieeee!" The scream shattered the comfortable hum of conversation that filled the breakfast nook. Forks were dropped, syrup spilled, and a sharp hiss meant that someone had burned their hand on the griddle. Sam and Dean both jumped to their feet, ready for action. Every gaze swung to the kitchen doors as they banged open. A cold blast of air swept through the room, as if someone had just opened the deep freeze. Three staff poured through the door, cooking utensils still in hand, too spooked even to drop everything before they ran.

A glimpse of a fourth figure was visible for a brief moment, eyes wide, hands grasping, face the washed-out color of a corpse. Then the doors slammed shut and the moment was over. The staff stopped to catch their breath and formed a huddle in the corner to argue about what they had just seen.

Sam and Dean both slowly dropped back into their chairs. The spirit was gone: there was nothing to fight for the moment. Also, there was nothing to fight with. Sam had picked up a knife, but it was plastic, not even strong enough to cut a bagel without snapping. Their guns were tucked safely away in the Impala's trunk.

Activity slowly returned to the room. Diners gathered up their spilled food, and started chattering about _what_ could _possibly_ have made the staff do _that._ The kitchen staff made unanimous decision not to go back and shuffled out the doors to the hotel lobby.

Mary's brow was furrowed, and she looked as if she had bitten into something sour. Gwen was white, but she leaned toward the kitchen to see what she could through the small window in the doors. Curious against her better judgment.

Castiel let out a belch and patted his belly. "I think I am full. I forgot how troublesome eating can be. I need to defecate." He tossed his napkin on the table and rose to go find the bathroom.

"So. It looks like there's a hunt here," Mary said. When in doubt, state the obvious.

"Yeah." Dean watched the hotel manager intercept the staff and start into an irate tirade, pointing at the kitchen. As one, the staff shook their heads and refused to budge. This would be an excellent time to drop in with a badge and start asking questions.

Or maybe not. What would Costa Rica think of an FBI badge?

"I guess we should find a new hotel," Dean said. Could he make a CIA badge? Probably. Couldn't me much harder than FBI. What were the local police called?

Sam was already reaching for his phone. "I'll call Teresa and she'll get one of the locals on it. We can check out and be gone in ten minutes."

"But-!" Gwen held up her flyer. "There's so much fun stuff here!"

"Really? You didn't want to hunt. You didn't want anything to do with it." Sam had been happy to support that decision.

Gwen's eyes roved back toward the kitchen door. "No. I don't. But-maybe we could leave our stuff in the car, go on the zip-line, and find another hotel tonight?"

Dean took the brochure with a grimace. "Pyramids. Now zip-lines. You just want to see me puke, don't you?"

Gwen's eyes sparkled. "That's the general idea, yes. Besides, I thought you weren't afraid of heights."

o0o

The zip-line platform was high. Higher than most motels Dean had stayed at. Higher than a tree should ever be. The tiny cable extended from the broad trunk into the green forest canopy. A woman strapped into a harness with a yellow helmet on her head went soaring down the cable with a yell of delight. She vanished into the foliage, arms flung out as if she were a bird.

The Winchester family was nearly to the top, and Dean's grip on the rail tightened the closer they got. He should have stayed back at the hotel with Cass, who was curled up in their room with bad daytime TV and a stomachache.

"We're going to be four-hundred feet high when we reach the top." Gwen's voice was cheery as she read the data off the brochure. Dean felt his stomach clench.

"How long is the ride?" Sam asked.

"Fifty feet on the first line, and we'll go over the river-"

"We're on vacation, not a fact-finding mission," Dean groused. He glanced down at the stairs behind him. Four hundred feet, huh?

"Fine." Gwen rolled her eyes, but tucked the brochure away. Instead, she started humming as she bounced up the steps. "George! George! George of the jungle!"

"Seriously?" Dean snapped.

"What? It sounds like a nice tune," Mary said. "What's the song?"

Sam grinned. "It's from an old cartoon. It's kind of like Tarzan, only funny."

"Watch out for that tree!" Gwen trilled.

Sam drew in a deep breath and let out a classic Tarzan yell, and Gwen doubled over, clutching her stomach she was laughing so hard.

"Are you going first then?" The tour guide at the top of the platform greeted them with a polite but unenthusiastic smile, unimpressed by Sam's Tarzan impersonation. He probably heard them all day long.

"Yeah, Sammy! Wanna go first?" Dean asked.

"Um…" Sam finally took a good look at the cable. It was very small, and he was very big. "Well, my daughter here is the one who really wanted to be here. Gwen?"

"Nope. I need to go last so I can take the pictures." Gwen held up her camera with a grin. "I'm making a scrapbook when we get home."

"A scrapbook? I am not going to be in a scrapbook," Dean said.

"You already are. I made one of you when you were a baby." Mary gave Dean a wide smile and stepped forward. "I'll go first."

The guide distributed harnesses and explained the complicated loops and buckles. Then he passed out the helmets.

Gwen sniffed hers. "Um, do these get cleaned between uses?"

Sam looked from the helmet to the long drop to the ground and back to the helmet again. "How do they help?"

"It's in case you run into a tree!" Dean handed the helmet back to the guide. "No thanks."

"It's required, sir. You can't get on the zip-line without it."

"Right. Well." Dean eyed the helmet and wondered if he could realistically convince the group that it was too small for his head. No helmet, no ride, right? Too bad he would just have to go sit with Cass for the rest of the day while his crazy brother and his crazy niece did their best angel impersonations.

The cable began to vibrate, causing the entire platform to wobble. Everyone clutched at the railing, even the tour guide. The poor kid looked green. As if this kind of thing didn't usually happen.

Distant shouts echoed across the canopy. At the other end of the zip-line, the second platform was in chaos. Tourists scrambled toward the steps or huddled near the rails. A translucent figure stood in the center of them, arms raised. A backpack went flying into the air and then fell down, down, down toward the ground.

Vacation or no vacation, that was a vengeful spirit and a hunter was needed.

Dean put the helmet on his head and hooked his harness to the zip-line. "Am I in this thing right?" He demanded.

"I-uh-no, you can't go! This isn't supposed to happen." The guide had plastered himself to the tree trunk and looked as if he would never let go.

"Dean! What are you going to fight it with?" Sam demanded.

"People are going to die over there." The type of weapon that happened to be on hand didn't matter. Besides, he had tucked a few boxes of salt into his pockets. Just in case.

Sam grimaced, but nodded. "I'll be right behind you."

"But I thought the spirit was in the hotel." Gwen's eyes were wide, fixed on the apparition at the other end of the line.

"It must be attached to something on one of the tourists. Or the staff," Mary said. She had a grip on Gwen that said she wasn't letting go.

Dean nodded to Sam. "Get me started."

Sam took hold of Dean's legs and gave him a strong push that launched him at double-speed down the zip-line. Wind whipped at Dean's face, trees flicked past, and the ground was a long, long way away. His lips parted an a scream rose form his chest.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh!"

He crashed into the tree supporting the other platform feet-first. Dean yanked himself free of the line and dropped to the floor with a force that made him stagger and land flat on his butt. He caught hold of the tree for balance and whipped a salt shaker out of his pocket as he scrambled to get his feet back under him.

The platform was empty. The last tourists were stampeding down the stairs, and the spirit was gone. Only one person was left on the platform, her black hair pulled back in a sensible braid and a gun in her hand.

Teresa stared at him, eyebrows raised. "That was some scream. What are you doing?"

"Trying to help?"

"With that?" Teresa gestured to the salt shaker. "Good thing your brother called me."

"Ahhhhh!" Sam's bellow was the only warning they had before he crashed into the tree. Dean tried to roll to the side, but too late. Sam unclipped his harness and dropped squarely onto Dean's chest. They both landed in a tangle on the platform.

Sam scrambled to his feet, still primed for action, and was met by the flash of a camera. "What-where is-Teresa?" He blinked at the figure behind the flash of light. "You got here quick."

"Somehow, I knew trouble would follow the Winchesters." Teresa holstered her gun. "Come on. I think I know which family the spirit is attached too, but I don't know who has the object it's inhabiting. Now is the best time to ask."

"Good thinking." Dean went to follow her down the stairs, but Sam's voice stopped him.

"Hand them over, Dean."

"What?" Dean's hand flew to his pocket, where the keys to the Impala were safely tucked away. "Oh, come on!"

"We had to get involved when people were in danger, but Teresa can handle it from here. If you go with her, you have to hand them over." Sam held out his hand.

"But-" Dean wanted to argue, but he knew he didn't stand a chance. He had sealed the deal before they ever left Kansas.

"But what?" Teresa asked, her gazed flicking between the brothers.

Dean grimaced. "We have a bet."

 _Back at the bunker…_

Sam and Dean stood side-by-side, staring at the Impala's trunk and the arsenal they kept there. Their hand-guns, their shotgun, machetes, holy water, everything they needed was kept here and always had been.

This compartment had never been empty of a weapon. But the Winchesters had never gone on vacation before.

"Should we find a different place to store it all?" Sam asked.

"No. This is where we've always kept it." The Impala's weight and balance would be all wrong without the arsenal tucked under the false bottom.

"We're not supposed to hunt, Dean. If we don't leave it here, we'll be tempted to use it."

"We're going to vacation spots. Hotels. Tourist traps. We won't have need for the holy water there." Dean frowned. Maybe. On second thought, resorts full of people who didn't want to go back to work might be an excellent recruiting ground for crossroads demons looking for a deal.

"You never know." Sam knew as well as Dean that trouble tended to happen whether they planned for it or not. "That's why we've got every hunter we know who works near the border on speed dial. If we have this stuff with us, what's to stop us from taking care of it ourselves? We promised Mom and Gwen."

There is was. The trump card. The reason they had agreed to this road trip in the first place.

"Exactly. I keep my promises." Dean's tone was firm and full of conviction. "Besides, you never know. With our luck-it would just be stupid to travel with nothing, Sam."

Sam crossed his arms and tilted his head, considering his brother. "So you won't come and grab your gun at the first hint of a hunt?"

"Nope."

"I bet you will. I'll make the call, but before anyone can come help, you'll have the salt and matches out and-"

"Yeah?" Dean cut in. "You'll have the laptop out, doing research to figure out what kind of South-American beast we've run into."

"Will not."

"Will too."

"Fine." Sam's eyes were sharp with the idea of a challenge. "Let's make a deal. I bet you will hunt while we're on this trip. And when you do, you have to give up the keys to the Impala."

"What?" Dean's tone was a warning growl.

"If you hunt, you don't get to drive until we're back home." Sam didn't flinch in the face of his brother's ire.

"Well, I won't hunt," Dean said as if he were stating a known fact. "But the same goes for you. If you touch a gun or get your laptop out to look at anything other than the cartoons or the security cam, it's forfeit."

"My laptop?" Sam's tone wavered.

"My keys, your laptop." It was only fair.

"Fine."

"Fine." Dean gave his brother's hand a firm shake. Deal sealed. No hunting allowed. "It's a bet."

o0o

Dean paced the hotel room. It was half a city away from the hotel they had started at this morning, but Dean was still twitchy. He didn't like knowing that there was a spirit on the loose when he had no gun and no plan. He wanted the cold reassurance of the grip in his palm. He wanted to shoot something.

Instead, he fondled the car keys and cursed his little brother. Sometimes, Sam knew him too well. Sometimes, Sam was too smart for his own good.

Dean's head turned toward the window. The Impala was just outside, and Sam wasn't here. Dean was alone. Who would know?

Gwen and Mary were gone. After their zip-lining tour had been cancelled (the company had closed everything down for the day, and why wouldn't they?), Gwen had found a day spa. Mary had been thrilled with the idea of mud baths and massages, and off they went. Without even inviting the boys to come along. Not that Dean wanted a mud bath. But a massage…

He rolled his neck and rubbed at a kink in his shoulders. Maybe he should check on them. Just in case.

After he fetched his gun out of the trunk. Just to be safe.

He wouldn't have anyplace to hide his gun from a masseur.

Hm.

Dean moved closer to the window and peered out at the empty parking lot. Cass had gone to fetch burgers for their dinner, and would be gone another fifteen minutes at least.

Which left Dean to his own devices. At least he had managed to find some American music. Johnny Cash crooned from the radio, "Don't take your guns to town, son, leave your guns at home."

Hmph. What did Cash know about it, anyway?

Sam had vanished an hour ago to check out a rare manuscript collection held by a local museum. He wasn't likely to be back before Cass returned with dinner.

The Impala was right there, just around the corner. Dean could be in and out in five minutes. Sam wouldn't have any way to know Dean had fetched his gun and a few other tools. Dean would declare he was going to the loudest and raunchiest bar in town, and Sam would promptly state he was tired and head to bed.

Dean would have the night to himself, no questions asked.

This spirit was going down.

"Don't take your guns to-" Dean slapped the radio's power button.

"Sorry, Johnny. No can do." The decision was made. Dean marched to the parking lot and opened the trunk.

It was chaos. Dean had tucked every bag into a careful arrangement that left space for souvenirs. Now, they were all smashed together at odd angles. A flip-flop bounced free when the lid lifted and tumbled to the ground.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. His brother couldn't hear him now, but he would. Dean shoved the bags aside, tossing them to the pavement so he could lift the lid to the weapon's stash.

Sure enough, Sam's gun was gone, along with the salt and gasoline cans. "You're laptop is mine, little brother." Dean turned to reach for his own Colt 1911 and froze. His handgun was not in its space, and neither were the shotguns. Anything that could be used against a spirit was no longer in the trunk.

"Hand them over." Sam's voice was stern. Back from the little library trip early, huh?

Dean spun to face his brother. "Hand what over?" He spotted Sam's laptop tucked up under his arm and snatched the computer. "This is mine now!"

"Hey!" Sam reached out for his laptop but Dean side-stepped and marched back to the hotel room. Sam followed, stomping all the way.

"Give that back!"

"What have you been looking up, huh? Local deaths, maybe?" Dean pulled the laptop open and called up the web browser to review the search history. He turned the screen so that Sam could see the headline and a picture of a dean woman. He didn't have to read Spanish to know this was a case.

Sam scowled. "That wasn't me! Who's been using my computer?"

Dean paused. He was pretty good at knowing when Sam was lying. This wasn't one of those times. "You didn't research the hunt?"

"No!" Sam looked down at Dean's empty hands. "You didn't take the guns out of the trunk?"

"No." Just because he had planned to didn't mean he had lost the bet. "But the guns are gone."

Castiel came to the doorway, arms loaded with paper bags. "It is possible that someone beat both of you to it," Castiel set is bags on the table and began laying out six burgers and accompanying fries, salads, and soft drinks.

"Who?"

The door opened and Gwen and Mary entered with Teresa in tow. They giggled and chatted as if they had just spent a fantastic day being pampered at the spa. Except that Mary had a shovel slung over one shoulder and Sam's Taurus in her free hand. Gwen cradled Dean's Colt with a gas can tucked under her arm.

Mary's eyes fell on the food. "Dinner! Thanks Cass!"

The ladies dropped their gear and landed at the table to attack the food. Sam and Dean stared, nonplussed. Something had happened, something they didn't understand.

"How did it go?" Castiel passed around the ketchup and napkins, not the least bit surprised.

"We got him." There was a sense of relief in Mary's tone, and she smiled.

Dean stared at his mother as if he had never seen her before. "Mom? I thought you didn't want to hunt." He thought she hated it, and a part of him still wondered if she rejected him because of it. But here she was, wolfing down food after taking down a spirit. What did that mean?

Mary shrugged. "I don't, but I want to see people die even less. I offered to help Teresa so I would know it was done."

"And?" Dean held his breath.

"And it's done. Hopefully, I won't have to do it again." She gave him a steady look. No, she didn't like hunting. But no, she didn't hate it, either. Somehow, maybe they could find a middle ground to stand on. But for now, dinner was more important. "Can you pass the ketchup?"

Sam turned to Gwen. She had been quiet these past few days on the road. Oh, she made jokes and hassled Dean about his fear of heights, but it all felt like an act. Like she was going through the motions while something else was on her mind. Now, she looked different. She wasn't preoccupied anymore. He dared to hope that maybe, this vacation would help them. Help them all. But he needed to hear it from her. "Why did you go with them?"

Gwen considered her burger for a moment. "I wanted to know how to take care of myself. Just in case. Now I know."

Her voice was so calm. She had a taste of hunting now. Would she want more? "And?"

"And I still plan to go to college, if that's what you mean," Gwen said. "Playing with fire is fun and all, but getting thrown into a wall isn't."

Teresa snorted. " _You_ didn't get thrown into a wall." She rubbed her head and placed her drink against the side of her face. "You know, if you want to learn more, Los Literatos would love to meet you. They just want to share information."

Sam raised a questioning eyebrow at Gwen. She met it with her best imitation of his favorite puppy-dog eyes. Sam smiled and shook his head. "Maybe another time. I'm on vacation." He squeezed Gwen's hand and she rewarded him with a dazzling smile. Whatever he could learn from Los Literatos, whatever resources or spells they might provide, this was worth more.

o0o

"It's not going to work," Teresa said. She was on the phone with the head of the Literatos. Again. "They don't want to meet."

"This is too good of an opportunity to pass up." The voice on the other end of the line was stern. "Did you get there itinerary?"

"Yes." Teresa paused.

"Well?"

Los Literatos were allies. There was no danger in giving up the information. Right? "You'll never believe what Dean has planned next."

o0o

 **Well, what did you think? Will the Literatos manage to get a conversation with Sam and Dean? Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**I've been trying to keep the tone of this story light, but it seems I can't quite manage it. This little serious moment was needed.**

 **Interlude**

Gwen woke with a gasp, her teeth chattering, her arms covered in goose bumps despite the warm tropic air. She wrapped her arms around her chest and sucked in a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" Mary's voice came from the seat by the window. She couldn't sleep, either.

"Yeah." Gwen climbed out of bed and went to sit beside her grandmother. Who was younger than her father. "I just had a bad dream."

"You're doing better than me," Mary said. "I couldn't sleep at all." She wrapped Gwen in a warm hug. "Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was warm, soft, welcoming. The mothering tone that Gwen had missed for so long. Dad did his best, but he wasn't a mom. Couldn't replace her mom. Neither could Mary, but sharing a hotel room these past few days as they traveled south had pulled them together. Neither had mentioned their late-night conversations to the boys.

What they didn't know couldn't hurt them.

Like the fact that Gwen still had nightmares, or woke up in the morning with the urge to wash the blood off her hands.

Like the fact that Mary could still smell her own burning flesh, when the lights were dark and sleep wouldn't come.

Maybe vacation hadn't been a good idea. Maybe they both needed to be in a psychiatric hospital until they got things sorted out. Instead, they had turned their hotel room into a sort of support-group. Some nights they talked about makeup and music and how to update Mary's sense of fashion. Some nights, they talked about blood and the hunt and all of the things they wished they had never done.

And every day, little by little, the ache got better. The dreams got less.

Until the day a spirit showed up at breakfast and they both had a choice to make.

It had taken less than a day, and when Gwen took hold of a gun again her hands had been steady. She had faced down the dead and she had survived.

"I don't feel bad anymore."

Mary didn't recoil, didn't flinch. Her face remained impassive, but she nodded as if she already knew. "Is that a problem?"

Gwen sighed. "I can't decide. What we did today…it's so different from what I did before. I shot at a ghost today, and it just vanished. Like it was a hologram or something. It didn't feel real, but I can still feel the shock of the recoil in my shoulders." Gwen rubbed her shoulder ruefully. She had learned on a handgun, and had never used a shotgun before. "It felt good."

Mary smiled. "Yeah, it can."

"Dad does this all the time?" Gwen twisted her hair in her fingers. "But you left. You stopped. Do you want to go back? I mean, it didn't take five minutes after we saw the spirit for you to decide to go after it."

"When I left hunting, I did a lot of damage. I didn't realize it at the time, but I did." Mary rubbed her forehead with her hands. She had known when she made that deal, when she kissed the thing wearing her father's body, that something bad must come of this. She simply never guessed that it could curse her sons. She thought she would suffer, and she had. But her boys? "It seemed like the least I could do." Spare them this one hunt. Show them that they didn't have to take on every case that came their way.

"Did you like it?"

"Hm." Mary considered the stars. "A little bit. It's like riding a bike, you know? You remember how no matter how long its been, and for those first few moments, when everything clicks and you know you can handles this-it feels great. Then you remember."

Gwen shuddered. "I'd never seen a dead body before. I mean-" She had seen a dead body. She had seen her mother laid out in her coffin. But the corpse they had dug up and burned was dead for over a year, the tissue shrunken, the skeleton visible. "I didn't like that part."

"You can get used to anything." Mary placed a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "But you don't have to. Sam and Dean seem happy for you to stay out of the life."

"I needed it," Gwen said. She gripped Mary's hand tight. "I needed that hunt. I needed to shoot a gun again, and know I was doing something good. I needed to see that spirit set free." It was the flip side of what she had done when she killed Lady Toni. "This time in my dream, I didn't kill her again." Gwen had relived that moment every night since. "This time I burned her bones. I think she might be gone now." Gwen put a hand to her head. "If you know what I mean."

Mary smiled. "I think I do." She placed her hand on the wedding ring that hung around her neck. Her own spirits weren't so easy to lay to rest. "Do you think you can sleep again?"

"Yeah." Gwen was surprised at how easy the words felt. "Yeah, I think I can." And when she crawled back into her bed, there was nothing waiting in the darkness besides a calm, peaceful rest.


	7. Chapter 7

**Detour**

"Um, Dean. Our exit was that way." Sam pointed to the giant road sign that matched the display on his phone. It was all in Spanish, but that was the good thing about road signs. They were simple. Names and numbers only, no translation needed. The little red dot that represented their car blinked in alarm and the blue line that traced their route had turned red. "We should-we need to turn around." He zoomed out on the map, scoping for the best recovery route.

Dean kept the car firmly in the high-speed lane and didn't even bother to look back. He knew exactly where he was going. "Nope. We're not going that way."

Sam rotated to watch the road sign whiz past. "But that's the shortest route!"

"We're making a detour." Dean was using that tone. The tone that said he'd made up his mind, and discussion was pointless. It usually made an appearance when an argument was already well underway. Or when he had already started to do something he knew Sam would disapprove of.

Sam turned to his brother. "A detour?" His eyes narrowed. "Where?"

Dean grinned. "You'll see."

In the back seat, Mary wrenched her eyes way from the window. The last time Sam and Dean had had a disagreement, Castiel had taken hostages. "What's going on?"

"We climbed the pyramids. We went on a zip-line. We stopped at the Mexican art museum." Dean nodded to Sam. "We tried every flavor of ice cream and churro available." His eyes flicked to Castiel, who rubbed his belly at the memory. Dean's eyes settled on Mary again. "You got your hair braided. You got your nails done." Mary smiled and touched a manicured hand to the intricately beaded brains running along her scalp. "We have done everything everyone in this car wants. It's my turn."

Gwen sat up from her corner and popped an earbud out. "Um-I think we're going the wrong way."

"We are," Castiel said.

"On purpose," Mary added.

Gwen frowned. "Why?"

"It's a surprise," Dean said. "You're going to love it. Opportunity of a lifetime."

"Dad?" Gwen appealed to her father with wide eyes that rivaled his own best puppy-dog look.

"Apparently we're making an extra stop." Sam turned off the GPS on his phone and tossed it aside. "Why was I navigating, if you already knew where we were going?"

"You needed something to do."

Sam growled and shifted around in his seat until his head rested against the window. The tropic sun was baking the glass, and the gentle thrum of the Impala soothed him to sleep in moments.

He woke to a gentle tugging on his scalp. It itched, like a fly walking across his skin. He tried to shift his head, but a hand clamped down on his scalp, holding him in place. Sam saw Castiel out of the corner of his eye, tucked up against the window with his legs stretched out, for once _not_ in the middle.

"I have all of human literature and cinema downloaded into my mind. I can tell you that there are many works of art far funnier than the Three Stooges."

"Nothing beats it, Cass! Nothing." Dean's tone was mild, as if he knew this argument had been lost before it even began.

Gwen's voice chimed in Sam's ear. "No, that's not how it went."

"I'm pretty sure she used four strands." That was Mary, and Sam was pretty sure they weren't talking about the Three Stooges.

"Yeah, but that's not the right criss-cross pattern. Let me try."

Sam's scalp itched again, and there were shifting sounds in the backseat as Mary and Gwen traded places.

Sam tried to move again, and again a hand clamped on his head to hold it in place. "Shh! Go back to sleep." Mary's response was automatic. As if she'd done this a few times already.

Why did Gwen and Mom want his head to hold still? Why did his scalp itch? _Uh-oh!_

"What is happening?" Sam reached both hands up to feel his scalp.

"Oh, you're awake!" Both woman started in surprise, andGwen snatched his hands. "Wait, you'll wreck it!"

A glance at Dean showed his brother was wearing the biggest grin Sam had ever seen. "Dude, I told you that stuff was dangerous."

Sam smacked two pairs of hands away from his head and ran his fingers across the surface of his hair. A pattern of ridges held one half of it away from his face. For the first time, he wished there was a mirror in the Impala's sun visor. No. Maybe it was better not to look. He frowned and turned to stare at his mother and his daughter, who stared innocently back. "Were you braiding my hair?"

"Just for practice!" Gwen placed her hand on the intricate braids that decorated Mary's head. They had taken two hours to put in at their last stop. "This is going to fall out in another few days, and we wanted to try to re-create it."

Sam ran his hands through his hair to shake it free. "On my head?"

A sign caught Sam's eye. It wasn't a giant interstate sign. They weren't on the interstate anymore. The Impala had slowed down, which was probably what had really woken Sam. He always knew when they were pulling into a stop. Suburban homes flicked past, with street names that Sam couldn't begin to pronounce. The homes all looked oddly empty, the yards picture-perfect, the driveways free of the grease and dirt that came with regular use. It felt like a scene out of the Stepford Wives. Underneath the street signs were cardboard posters with giant arrows, the kind people set up for an event like a family reunion.

"Destino y Amor," Sam read. He knew the words and the familiar red blocky letters. He had seen the logo more times that he cared to, plastered across the TV screen when they were stuck in a motel room between hunts. Several large trailers were parked along the side of the road, with more in the distance. They weren't the kind of trailers people lived in. People swarmed the set, running between trailers carrying clothes, food, and all kinds of filming equipment.

"No. Way."

"It's perfect, right?" Dean waggled his eyebrows and smiled as if he had just granted everyone in the car three wishes. "They're filming the season finale, and they need all the extras they can get. All you have to do is show up!"

Sam pinched his nose. He could feel a headache growing. "You mean that instead of one hour of that low-budget mess, we have to sit around all day and watch them film it?"

Dean's face fell, betrayed. But he was too used to Sam's attitude to stay down. "Oh, come on! It'll be fun! You're the one who did drama in school."

"We're gong to be on TV!" Gwen's hands flew to her hair, then to her clothes. "And you didn't warn me?"

"Relax! They'll provide makeup and clothes. And food!" Dean's grin was back.

Mary smiled. "Sounds like fun."

"That's what I'm talking about!"

"But I didn't think you spoke Spanish." Mary fixed her eyes on Dean.

"That doesn't stop him watching the show," Sam said.

"Destino Y Amor." Castiel considered. "This was not included in the material that Metatron gave me."  
"It probably wasn't worth the effort," Sam said.

"Hey! Are you bashing Spanish cinema?" Gwen asked, eyes narrowed.

"No! Just this one. You'll see." Sam shook his head. "You'll see."

o0o

 _Back at the Bunker…_

Dean sighted down the barrel of his gun, his eyes narrowed and fierce, a warning to the enemy that he meant business. "Look, we can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way."

The words continued to march across the TV screen, unperturbed. "Invalid entry. Please try again."

Dean growled and set his gun aside. This was one thing that he could not intimidate into submission.

"Does that ever work?" Mary stood beside him, hands in pockets, biting back a grin. "What are you trying to do, anyway?"

"I'm recording my TV shows so I can catch up when we get back." Dean held up his TV Guide, where a woman in a red dress and a mane of black hair clung to a man in a black tux with baby-blue eyes and a dashing grin. "There is a three-part special on next week and I can't miss it!"

Mary took the TV Guide and flipped to the story inside. "Destine y Amor. Maria has left her husband to be with her love, but a secret from Felipe's past threatens to tear them apart. Heartbroken at Maria's betrayal, Oliver turns to Juanita for comfort. He doesn't know that she has cancer, and she is afraid to tell him and break his heart again. Meanwhile, Cousin Raquel just found out that Juanita's medical records were switched by mistake. Juanita doesn't have cancer, but is starting chemo treatments next week. Raquel wants revenge on Juanita, and didn't correct the error." Mary frowned. "You want to watch this stuff? Maybe you're better off taking a break."

"Not happening! Besides, I'm also going to record the MASH marathon. They're running the original commercials and everything." Dean paused. "You missed the series finale."

"MASH?" Mary blinked. "You remembered that?"

Bedtime was never late on MASH night. Little Dean only got a story if he was good, because Mommy and Daddy had to go turn the TV on at 8 on the dot. He remembered humming along with the theme song as he drifted off to sleep.

Dean shrugged. "I remember a few things. But you can't watch it if we can't figure this thing out." He waved a hand in disgust at the DVR system.

Mary took the remote and examined the array of useless buttons. "Where's the instruction manual?"

o0o

Being tall wasn't easy. Yes, sometimes it came in handy. As a hunter, he had a longer reach than most, and a shotgun fit easily in his hands. But mostly, being tall was annoying. It got him called names like "Moose" and "Jolly Green," and it was always the first thing that people noticed about him.

It had been the first thing that the director noticed. As soon as they walked on set, he had frowned and shook his head. He lined everyone up and looked through the camera lens, and declared Sam defective. Too tall to fit into the frame. Therefore, he was fired before he ever had his screen debut.

Which was fine with Sam. Better to sit in the shade, enjoy snacks, and watch the fun, than be stuck waiting on the sidelines until the moment when he had to stand on a piece of tape and 'act normal.'

There was no acting occurring on the screen as Sam watched the video feed from the bunker. Things were quiet these days. The Brits had figured out that explosives wouldn't work. They had moved on to some creative spell work, and after that a wrecking ball had made an appearance. The bunker remained unscathed, and the Men of Letters were left to scratch their heads and wonder. The munitions experts had left, to make way for a team of nerds with laboratory equipment who were coming over every inch of the steel door with a magnifying glass.

"They don't look so scary at the moment, do they?" A face peered over Sam's shoulder, his eyes sparkling at the sight of a Man of Letters dropping his equipment on his toe.

Sam hastily shut the laptop and spun to get a better look at the intruder. He was young, excitement written clearly across his handsome face. He didn't duck away from Sam's intense glare, only held out his hand in greeting. "Hello! My name is Alejandro Rivera. It is an honor to meet you, Mr. Winchester!"

Sam shook the young man's hand with a frown. Alejandro didn't look like a hunter. He was dressed in the latest fashions, without a smudge of dirt under his fingernails. His expression was open, eager. Not the hard, stern look that came from killing on a regular basis. A silver ring glittered on his hand. There was no gem, only a flat, round space which bore the imprint of the Aquarian star. The same symbol that decorated the Men of Letter's bunker.

"You're a Man of Letters." Sam's tone was wary.

Alejandro scowled. "No! Those are the British. We are Los Literatos." He said the word with a proud flare, then shrugged. "Which means the same thing, I suppose. We used to be part of the same group. Then the Brits invented their 'code' and everyone else kicked them out. I don't know what happened when they came to visit you." Alejandro gestured to the closed laptop. "But I promise, we're not like them. We want to help you."

"Help us?" Sam had wished to hear those words many times in his life. When his brother was facing death. When the world was about to end. When angels fell out of the sky. But today, there was no hunt. Today, there was no impending disaster.

"What makes you think we need help?"

Alejandro frowned and gestured to the laptop. "Well, we really thought the Brits would have broken into the bunker by now. I mean- How did you do it? How are you keeping them out?"

"A spell that my brother invented," Sam said. He sighed. "Look, I'm on vacation. I promised my family that I wouldn't hunt or do anything work related all summer."

"Really?" Alejandro looked as if Sam had just announced that he had found a flying pig. "That's what Teresa said, but I thought it was just your cover story. We hoped you were coming to meet us."

If he had known they were here, Sam would have come to meet the Literatos a long time ago. Still, he had learned to be wary of strangers offering help. "Why?"

"Well, the Brits invaded your home and then you ran away. You drove further south that you've ever gone before." Alejandro gestured with his hands and he talked, drawing a line from above his head down to his navel to indicate their long trip. "We thought you might need help."

"How did you know the British Men of Letters visited us?" That was not information Alejandro should have been able to pick out of the video feed. The Brits weren't wearing giant signs on their backs.

"We keep an eye on them. Alarms when off all over the place when they left the British isles." He clapped a hand over one ear and rubbed it gently at the memory. "Everyone's been in panic mode ever since. They cooled off a little bit when Lady Toni landed in the States, but then you came here." Alejandro indicated the ground beneath their feet. "We hoped you would tell us why the Men of Letters are here. We figured since you locked them out that you didn't like what they had to say."

"No, we didn't like it." Lady Toni had used her gun to do most of the talking.

"Which means that we could be allies!" Alejandro beamed at him, arms open wide as if offering a hug. "We want to stop the British."

"You don't even know what the British want."

"Do you always know what Crowley wants?" Alejandro asked.

Sam conceded the point with a nod of his head. "The British Men of Letters are that bad?"

"Yes!" Alejandro's response was emphatic, and he shuddered. "I've never met one, and I never want to. For the past eighty years, they stayed on their island, so we left them alone."

"They still haven't done anything to you," Sam pointed out.

"Not yet! If they take over the States, where do you think they'll go next?"

"Why should I believe you? The last person wearing that symbol," he gestured to Alejandro's ring, "Shot me."

"I made you this." Alejandro reached into his bag and pulled out a three-ring binder. He placed it in Sam's hands reverently, as if it were a rare and ancient text.

Sam flipped the binder open and found photocopies from several different texts. A few were in Latin, a few were in older languages, all looked useful. "Is this a hex box that can trap a demon?"

"Yes! It traps a demon's soul so you can let the host go. I thought you might like it. It would have made things very different with Ruby if you had that."

"Yeah. Wait. How do you know about Ruby?"

"I read all your books! I'm the resident Winchester expert."

"Winchester expert?" Sam chewed on the words carefully, and wasn't sure he liked the taste.

"Lost Literatos study all things supernatural. That includes you."

"We are human."

"Well, there's actually a debate about that. My sister wrote her thesis on it." Alejandro either didn't notice the stunned look on Sam's face, or chose to ignore it. "So, what is your plan? There are twenty British Men of Letters on your front doorstep and more on the way. If this is just vacation, what happens when you get back home?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "We have a few ideas."

Of they would, once he and Dean got around to talking about it. Because the kid was right. The Men of Letters couldn't get into the bunker, but without a plan, Sam and Dean wouldn't be able to go back home.

"Well, we'd like to help." Alejandro placed a business card in Sam's hand. There were no words, only the Aquarian star and a phone number. "When your vacation is over, give me a call."

o0o

"Bang! Bang!"

The director's voice spurred everyone into action. The extras who surrounded the fake ice-cream shop screamed and ducked for cover. Mary crawled under a table. Gwen pressed herself into a corner. Castiel froze in mid-motion behind the counter, still holding out a scoop of ice-cream as he stared blankly at the armed man who walked through the door. The woman behind the cash register gasped and red corn syrup spread across the front of her shirt. Her eyes rolled up in her head and she dropped to the ground to lie still.

"Ow!" Dean yelled. He jerked forward as the blood packet in his shirt popped, clapped his hand to the stain, then stared at the red on his hands. He jumped to his feet, staggered, and gripped the table to keep from falling over. Dean stared at the 'blood' on his hands, drew in a ragged breath, and collapsed on the ground where he twitched dramatically.

"CUT!" The director yelled over the ruckus. Silence fell in an instant.

"Alright!" Dean clapped from his position on the floor. "Great job everyone!"

"That was terrible!" The director stood over Dean, hands on hips. "What were you doing?"

"I was dying!" Dean popped to his feet. "Did a pretty good job, too."

Gwen stuffed her hand in her mouth to cover her laugh. Mary rolled her eyes and crawled out from under the table.

"He wants me to just fall over! That's not what happens when you get shot!"

"That's what happened when Dad got shot," Gwen muttered.

"You hear the cue, you fall down and lie still," the director snapped. "That's all you need to do."

"I'm supposed to die!" Dean protested. "I know how to die. I've died move than three times."

"Well I don't care what your other directors said, this is my show and this is how you die on Destino Y Amor. Fall down and lie still." The director pointed emphatically at the pavement. He turned to the assembled cast and swept his eyes over the extras. "Who can fall over?"

Several people raised their hands. The director point to one, and the effects people surrounded him to install a blood pack under his shirt.

"Hey!" Dean stammered. "What about me?"

"I think you've been fired too, dear." Mary laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him away from the set. "Go find Sam and maybe have a snack, huh?"

"They don't know what they're missing! I know more about dying than…" Dean paused when he realized that Mary had turned back to the set and no one else was following. "Hey! Guys! We just got fired."

"You got fired," Castiel said. He had refreshed his ice cream scoop as the shop filled up with extras again. "I have to stay until they do my close-up."

"It's all about continuity. Very important." Gwen's tone was mock-serious. Then she gave him a smile and a cheery wave. "We'll see you when we're done!"

When Dean found Sam, his little brother barely bothered to look up from his book. "That took longer than I expected."

"What?"

"For the director to fire you, too."

"Fire me? Why would they fire me?" Dean spread his arms wide, as if the entire thing were a complete mystery.

"Because you can't act," Sam said.

"Being an extra doesn't require acting. You just act normal while the actors do their thing."

"Yep. And you couldn't even act like yourself when we were in bizzaro world." Sam finally raised his eyes, and his eyebrows rose at the sight of the red splatter on Dean's shirt. He leaned forward and sniffed at the corn syrup. "You know that stuff doesn't look like real blood at all."

"I know, right?" Dean brushed at the stain. "And they have no idea what real dying looks like."

"You thought this show was realistic?" Sam asked.

"Shut up." Dean plopped down next to Sam, and finally took a good look at the book in his brother's hands. No. It wasn't a book. It was a binder. "Is that work stuff?"

Sam twitched and flipped the binder closed. "No."

"Sam!"

Sam jerked his thumb toward the cluster of trailers behind him. "The rest of the actors are showing up for the big scene this evening."

"Maria?" Dean's head jerked up and his chin twisted from side to side. "Did you see her? What about Felipe? They say he's having an argument with the director. Might not show."

"Well, a fancy car pulled up about twenty minutes ago, followed by a mob of fans. I don't know who got out."

Dean jumped to his feet. "I'd better go see. Make sure everyone is getting along. We wouldn't want to ruin the final scene."

Sam rolled his eyes and went back to his reading.

o0o

The sun was a red blotch in the sky. It balanced on the horizon and tinted the entire scene in a crimson hue. Sam looked up from his reading to appreciate the sight. It was beautiful, dramatic and perfect for-

"Hurry it up people!" A PA marched through the scattered crew with a loudspeaker pressed to her lips. "We've got twenty minutes to sundown, and we've got to get this scene done NOW!"

Sam flinched as the speaker screeched, then his vision went black.

 _What?_

Sam blinked and reached forward to touch the swath of black fabric that had been thrust in his nose. He pushed it away and glared up at Gwen. She waggled the black shit again, and Sam dodged to protect his hair.

"Hey! What the-" He looked his daughter and his mother up and down. They were both swathed in black from head to toe. They even had little black caps with black veils attached. "You look like your ready for a funeral. Sixty years ago. This isn't a period piece."

 _Clop! Clop! Clop_! A pair of horses trotted past pulling a carriage.

"What decade is this thing set in?"

"It's set in 'get your ass moving now'!" Gwen did her best to mimic the director's fierce yell. "We're behind schedule! Come on! Get changed." She whapped him in the head with the suit again.

"I'm not allowed to be inside the camera's line of sight." Sam had been forced to move his spot several times over the course of the day in order to avoid the camera's wide lens. He patted his head. "Too tall, remember?"

"You're not too tall for this!" Gwen gestured dramatically at the set-up behind them. Six men hauled a coffin to sit atop the black carriage and the wranglers fitted the horses with black feathers.

"I'm too tall for ice cream, but not for a funeral?" Sam took hold of the black suit and peered at the tag. He knew from experience that it would be too small. His wrists and ankles would stick out like he was a scarecrow.

"You have to stand in the back and crouch really low," Gwen said.

"I'll pass." Sam tried to hand the suit back, but Mom put her hands on his to stop him.

"Please, Sam?" There was a glitter in her eye, the kind that came from tears.

"Mom? What's wrong?"

Mary sighed. "I know I said I wanted a vacation. I know I said we needed to have some fun and get to know each other. I know its been over a decade for you. But I lost John two weeks ago. I didn't get to see his body, I didn't get to say good-bye."

"So you're stealing the telenovela's funeral?"

Mary shrugged. "Well, if we had our own it still wouldn't be real. Not for you or Dean. There wouldn't be a body in the casket. This will do just fine. Give me a place to cry."

"No better place to cry than on a soap opera. Right?" Gwen wrapped an arm around Mary and patter her back gently, but she gave Sam a fierce glare at odds with her gentle hands. "So its time for you to put the suit on."

"Yes, ma'am!" Sam took the suit and let Gwen point him toward the changing rooms.

o0o

The scene was set. Black horses pulled a black carriage with a black coffin covered in red roses. Behind the coffin, the cast was assembled all in black, save Maria who wore crimson. Her dress matched the red sun that tinted everything the light touched. It was heart-wrenchingly beautiful. As if the weather had been made-to-order.

"I can't believe they killed Felipe!" Tears glittered in Dean's eyes, the bitter tears of a frustrated fan facing a long hiatus. "Do you think he's really dead? Man, now I have to wait even longer to get the season opener and find out what happens!"

"We have one chance!" The director's voice echoed across the assembled crowd. He pointed to the blood-red sunset. "This will only last for a few moments more. Once the camera's roll, everything must be perfect! You know your lines! You know your marks! Show me what you can do! It's time to make magic!"

The director looked down at the extras, and his eyes settled on Dean. "You don't say anything." The director glared directly at Dean. "You walk when the coffin moves. You stop when it stops. You stand still. You don't try to cry, you don't try to act. You be silent and look sad."

Sam turned to Gwen. "How did you convince him to take Dean back?"

"Well." Gwen clasped her hands and scrunched up her face. Her eyes glistened with face tears. "I told him that my cousin Mary lost her husband a year ago today. I told him that he was in a tragic accident while she was away on a trip. She tried to get home as fast as possible, but her plane was delayed and her bus broke down and the train was late and she finally took a Taxi the last four hundred miles. But when she got there, she found out he had died the day before, and his family-who hated her-rushed to have the funeral before she could get back. When she got home, all she had was a freshly dug grave! This show is what helped her through the next year. She watched every episode, and then binged them again. It Dean who got her hooked on the show, and she wanted him to be here."

Gwen's sad face cracked into a satisfied smile. "I did it in Spanish, and I may have thrown in a few lines from one of Abuelo's sadder songs. The director was crying by the time I was done."

"That's my little con artist!" Dean patted Gwen's shoulder proudly. "You should write for this show."

"Action!" The black-and-white board that marked the spot snapped closed and silence descended. The director waved his hands in a silent cue. The carriage began to move forward, and the mob of extras obediently stepped out to follow it. Mary took Sam's hand and squeezed it tight. There were tears glistening on her cheeks. Dean put a hand on her shoulder.

"I miss him."

"We all do, Mom." Dean pulled Mary in tight for a hug. Together, the Winchesters marched with the silent funeral parade.

A rattle echoed over the procession. The entire crowd stopped to stare.

In the carriage, the coffin wobbled. Roses tumbled in all directions as the lid flipped open. Felipe sprang out of the bed, still wearing his corn-syrup stained shirt. He flung his arms wide with a 'gotcha' grin.

"Surprise!"

"Nooo!" The director clapped his hands to his head and dropped to his knees. The red sun was already fading into the horizon.

 _Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang_!

Four guns went off in quick succession. Four bullets found their mark.

Felipe clasped his chest with a blood-curdling shriek. "Aiiieee!" There followed a string of Spanish words that Sam had never learned in class, but which made Gwen's ears turn red.

Maria laughed so hard she had to sit down. She pointed to Felipe with a red-lacquered nail. "That's what you get for ruining my close-ups!"

"Ow!" Felipe staggered to the edge of the carriage. He pulled his hand away from his chest and sniffed. "What is this? Salt?"

Sam, Dean, Gwen, and Mary quickly shoved their guns back into their hiding places.

"Seriously, Dean?" Sam said. "A gun on a TV set?"

"Hey, we've been attacked by ghosts on film sets before," Dean retorted. "Besides, you had one too. Didn't even wait to see if it was a ghost before you fired."

"A body jumped out of a coffin!" Sam's tone was defensive.

"I know!" Dean shot back. "Usually that means something needs to be shot!"

Mary grabbed both brothers by the wrists and jerked her head toward the beefy men in 'security' t-shirts headed their way. "I think we need go. Now."

"I really don't want to get arrested in a foreign country." Gwen dived out of the crowd a head of Mary and led the way to the car.

"Good point," Sam said. But his eyes were searching the crowd. "Where's Cass?"

"The telenovela filming next door stole him as soon as the director yelled cut," Gwen said. "I think he's found his new calling."

"All he did was scoop ice cream," Dean grumbled.

o0o

The wine bar was a small place, upscale enough to serve the good labels but small enough not to draw a crowd. And cheap enough to be within the budget of a not-quite-fully-initiated Literato. Alejandro didn't get a full-time salary until he passed his final exams, until he successfully defended his disseratation, and until he proved he could handle a field assignment.

So what did the old men do? They handed him the toughest assignment in a century. Bring in the Winchesters. Make them our friends.

Alejandro didn't care. He had met Sam Winchester in real life, without breaking out into shrieks of delight like a fan at a rock concert or asking for an autograph like a little kid at Disneyland. All in all, he was proud of today's work.

Even so he stared at his phone. Wishing. Hoping. Would they take the bait? Would they call?

Shadows fell over his table, and Alejandro looked up to see three women standing in front of him. They posed, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, as if they were superheroes on a movie poster. But their eerie beauty and easy grace did not come from an airbrush artist and carefully tailored costumes. No, these were not human.

They didn't pose a threat, either. Alejandro stifled a disappointed sigh. If they had come to threaten him, he could have an excuse to call the Winchesters and beg for help. They would come bursting through that door and save his life, and then he could convince them to come with him to the Literatos' headquarters. Answer a few questions for his research. Maybe even sign his Carver Edlund books.

Maybe. The rumor was that the Winchesters didn't like those books.

It was a good thing Alejandro hadn't mentioned to Sam that they were the subject of his dissertation.

"Maritza. Beatriz. Ines." Aljeandro nodded as he greeted each one. He had seen them all at Los Literatos headquarters before. He had been made to memorize their pictures, just in case. Los Literatos didn't want allies to get killed on accident. It was strange they were coming to him. Alejandro was a junior member. He didn't even get a vote on the council yet. "A kitsune, a pishtaco, and a vampire walk into a bar. Am I missing a joke?"

"Joke?" The vampire, Beatriz, sat down next to him and draped an arm over his shoulder. "Here's one for you. Why did the Winchester's cross the border?"

Alejandro swallowed hard, eyes transfixed by the set of fangs which slid into place above her teeth. He never got used to that, no matter how many times he saw it happen. "Haven't you heard? They're on vacation."

Martiza leaned forward, her eyes narrowed. "You're sure?"

Alejandro nodded. "That's what they said."

"Hm." Beatriz snorted and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "We'll see about that."

o0o

 **What do a vampire, a pishtaco, and a kitsune want with the Winchesters? Will Alejandro persuade Sam and Dean to meet Lost Literatos? Will the spell Alejandro gave Sam really fix Castiel's wings?**

 **Please Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Interlude Part 2**

Sam woke to a hand shaking his shoulder and the smell of chocolate. In the bed across the room, Dean blinked blearily and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. The digital clock was the only light in the room, the glowing numbers proclaimed it was well after midnight but still several hours until sunrise. It was the darkest part of the night. The quietest time of night. It was the favorite hour for haunting, and nightmares.

"What's going on?" Sam asked.

"Midnight snack."

Gwen gestured both father and uncle through the small door that linked the boys and girls' rooms with a chocolate covered spoon. She held a bowl of ice cream in one hand, covered in chocolate syrup, chocolate chips, and brownie bits. Dean followed by scent more than by sight, his nose latched onto the promise of sugar.

The sound of a ragged sob knocked all thoughts of sweets out of his head. More effective than a shot of caffeine, the sound had both Sam and Dean suddenly wide awake. They darted past Gwen toward the balcony, where their mother sat curled in on herself, tears pouring from her eyes.

They surrounded her with strong arms and gentle words.

"Hey, Mom, are you ok?"

"Shh, shh. It's alright. What's wrong?"

Mary had kept a straight face for two weeks now. She had even manage to smile when appropriate, and laugh out loud on occasion. But there was an ache in her chest, and it demanded to be freed. She didn't fight the tears, but let them pour down.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded of Gwen. She settled next to them on the balcony and started filling up bowls with ice cream.

"Sometimes chocolate isn't enough. Sometimes you just need a good cry." Gwen didn't sound worried. But she had been through this before. She had lost the person she cared most about in the entire world, and she knew what was needed. First the tears and the sobs and the mess that it caused. Then a bit of comfort food and a warm hug. Sam and Dean could provide the latter. Gwen busied herself with the former. She handed out bowls filled to overflowing with chocolate ice cream and passed the syrup around.

"It's ok." Mary took in a deep breath, stilling the sobs. She gave her sons a weak smile. "I needed that." She wrapped her fingers around the bowl of ice cream that Gwen placed in her hands, but she didn't look at it. "I'm ready now."

"Ready?" Sam asked.

Mary nodded. "Ready to talk. I read his journal, and Dean gave me the important details that first night, but we haven't said much since." She drew in a deep breath. "Tell me about John, about what life was like after I died."

"Well," Dean dug into his chocolate thoughtfully. "There was this one time when Sam was three…"

They told stories until the first streaks of light started to creep across the horizon. They laughed. They cried. They made themselves sick with chocolate and ice-cream until even Dean decided he had had enough. And Mary bade good-bye to the husband she had lost and the life she couldn't get back. They fell asleep as the day started.

All but Sam. His eyes were about to close when he saw the flick of a beige trench-coat out of the corner of his eye. Castile hovered by the balcony door, unwilling to intrude but hesitant to leave. He held Alejandro's binder under his arm.

Sam disentangled himself from the family pile and came to stand by the angel. "What do you think?" He tapped the binder meaningfully.

He wasn't asking about Los Literatos. He wasn't asking about the photocopy collection in general. Sam was asking about the spell found on the last page.

The spell that claimed it could restore an angel's wings.

"It could work. It's hard to say." There was caution in Cass' voice, the hope that didn't quite dare to be real, lest it be disappointed.

"Do you want to try?" It would require a scavenger hunt to find the right ingredients, but on the grand scale of 'stupid things the Winchesters have done,' it was fairly low risk. Worse case scenario was that Cass remained as he was, his wings burnt and useless.  
Castiel never spoke about the loss of his wings. He never lamented the fact that he now had to drive to get across the country. They all knew he missed heaven, but that had been closed to him long ago. Did the power of flight matter that much?

"Yes." There was a longing in the word, one that Sam hated to hear. Cass had given so much for them, and they had so little they could offer in return.

"Alright." Sam placed a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "We'll make it happen."


	9. Chapter 9

**Rollin' on the River**

Beatriz, Inez, and Maritza leaned on the railing of _Jacare Acu_ , an Amazon cruise boat, and surveyed the activity on the docks. The vampire had every possible inch of skin covered in loose, flowing clothing, her hands and face coated in a thick layer of sunscreen. She wore dark sunglasses and a floppy hat, but still glared at the sun.

"Is this really necessary? We could just meet them at night, in a bar. They eat dinner just like everyone else."

"You show your fangs, they break out the machetes," Martiza said. She was dressed in short shorts and a tank top, the sun no problem for the phishtaco's tan skin. "You make friends, they give you ten minutes to explain first."

"Plus, if we get them alone in the middle of nowhere, we can hide all of their machetes. And guns. And knives," Inez said. The kitsune raised a finger to point at a small minivan labeled "Amazon Cruises" that had pulled up to the curb.

The Winchesters piled out of the van, suitcases in tow. Dean's flip-flop caught on the curb, and he took a nose-dive in the sidewalk. Sam leaned into the front to pay the driver, and whapped his head on the door frame as he tried to straighten up again. Castiel took three tries to get the sliding van door to latch. When it finally closed, it caught the corner of his trench coat, and the fabric ripped as the driver pulled away.

Beatriz wrinkled her nose. "Those are the Winchesters?"

"Yes," Martiza replied.

"Jacare Acu. That's our ship!" Sam pointed the way to the boat. Dean frowned.

"Jungle cruise. I can't believe I agreed to this. Abandoning Baby so that you can go hiking."

"In the Amazon!" Sam said. "It'll be fun!"

"Uh-huh." Dean shook his head, but followed the rest of his family up the dock.

"Alright, ladies!" Inez clapped her hands. "Time to get to work!"

o0o

"I can't believe you ate all the snacks before we're even halfway there!" Mary hissed, her voice a low whisper. Her eyes flicked up and down the hallway of the boat, to make sure no one was watching.

"We are halfway there. The jungle excursion is tomorrow," Castiel said. Neither he nor Sam and mentioned to the rest of the family that there was more to this trip than a simple hike. That they hoped to find a rare flower that was the key ingredient to a spell to heal his wings.

Sam said what Dean didn't know wouldn't hurt. Cass knew that was not true, but he also knew better than to interfere between the brothers. So he kept his mouth shut. By filling it with snacks.

"Yes, then we have to turn around and go back. That's four more days on board! I'm hungry, and all they serve on this boat is healthy stuff like granola and kale. No one ate kale in the eighties!" Mary twisted the door handle to the kitchen, but it refused to budge. She stepped aside and gestured to Cass. "Go on! Work your magic."

"Technically, it's not magic. I don't even need to use my grace for this. Just my superior strength." Castiel twisted the door handle and popped the lock.

Mary opened the door a crack, surveyed the empty room, then swung it wide. "All clear!"

Castiel began opening cabinets and sniffing at boxes. "There is food here I've never seen before. Hm. Interesting." He squinted at a label. "Dried squid."

"Never eat the local food!" Mary swung the refrigerator door open wide. "They have plenty of-oh, that's not good. Castiel!" Mary stepped back so that the angel could get a good look.

Inside the refrigerator looked like it belonged in a science lab or a morgue. There were bags of blood. Vats of fat. Jars of fluid with little bits of brains suspended inside.

"That would not seem to be food intended for humans," Castiel said.

Behind them, the door creaked on its hinges and then snapped shut. Castiel and Mary turned to see Inez standing between them and the exit, her expression somber.

"Well, this is awkward. You weren't supposed to find that."

o0o

Tomorrow! Sam was surprised at the thrill of excitement singing through his veins. After all, a jungle excursion wasn't any more dangerous than anything he had done before. It wasn't exciting enough to keep him up at night, like a kid waiting for Christmas.

But that was exactly how he felt, like a kid waiting for Christmas.

Tomorrow, they would finally land at a remote part of the Amazon and go on a jungle excursion. Where Sam would have to find a way to get off-trail. He had his own destination in mind.

Tomorrow, he would finally find out if the documents that Alejandro had given him were real. If there really was a flower with healing properties hiding in the jungle. Healing properties strong enough to cure an angel when mixed with the right spell.

If there was, Sam would have to cut this vacation short. The few pages that Alejandro had copied for him were just a start. He needed to meet Los Literatos.

If this was all real. If it wasn't-then it was a trap. If it was a good trap, and Sam got killed-well. He could expect a very stern lecture from his brother just as soon as Dean got done wrangling Billie into sending Sam back from the Empty.

No. Surely it wouldn't go that badly. Sam could handle a few Men of Letters. He planned to go in fully armed.

It was a wonder Dean hadn't spotted the weaponry when they had been loading up their bags. Thankfully, big brother had been too busy complaining about mosquitoes, the lack of tacos in Venezuelan cuisine, and leaving his beloved car behind.

Sam shut the door carefully and turned the lock before opening his duffel. Better if Dean didn't stumble in at an awkward moment.

Or maybe he already had. Sam glared at his empty duffel. No machete. No knife. No gun. His weapons were gone.

o0o

"Rollin'! Rollin'! Rollin' on the river!" Dean hummed the chorus and cast his fishing line into the water. The day was hot and humid, and mosquitoes buzzed over the water in packs. The lush green foliage of the Amazon surrounded them, teeming with monkeys and colorful birds. Occasionally, the fierce yowl of a wildcat echoed across the water.

"You know, you're not supposed to do that until the boat stops." Beatriz watched Dean in amusement, a beer dangling from one hand, her sunglasses and hat firmly in place to fend of the worst of the heat. Dean hadn't quite figure out why she was on the cruise: she clearly belonged in the city, in a nightclub or upscale restaurant ordering something he couldn't pronounce.

Like him, she had the misfortune to be related to people who enjoyed this kind of thing. Her traveling companions seemed fascinated by the rain forest. One of them had even helped Sam comb over the maps for their upcoming inland excursion.

Dean grinned in response to a tug on the line. "Never hurts to try!" He pulled at the fishing pole. The pole pulled back. Frowning, Dean turned his attention to reeling in his catch. The calm water erupted in an explosion of silver scales, but the line held and soon Dean was hauling a flapping fish onto deck. He grabbed at the scaly thing, and a mouth full of teeth snapped back.

"Yikes!" Dean retreated and glared at his catch. It had two giant fangs longer than his fingers which snapped again as he tried to bend closer. "What the heck is that!"

"What? You have a problem with fangs?" Beatriz opened her mouth and allowed her second set of incisors to descend over her human teeth.

The fanged fish flopped toward the edge of the boat and tipped itself back into the river.

"Son of a bitch!"

Beatriz wasn't sure if Dean was complaining about her, or the loss of the fish. She let her fangs slide back into their hiding spot and held up her hands. "Look, we aren't here for a fight. We just want to talk."

"We?" Dean turned at the sound of footsteps approaching. Sam thumped onto deck, frustration written clearly across his face.

"Dean, where did you put them?"

"What?"

"My machete and my knife!"

"Sam! We're on vacation! Why would you bring weapons onto the boat?"

"They're for the jungle trek. There are predators out there!" Sam gestured to the trees that surrounded the river. "I need them back!"

"I didn't touch them, Sam." Dean turned to look expectantly at Beatriz.

Mary clattered up the steps, her face white. Castiel followed close behind, hauling Inez with him, his knife on her throat. "We have a problem."  
"There are brains in the refrigerator," Mary explained. She nodded to Inez. "She claims that they were harvested from the dead, so it's ok. She said Maritza said that you two would be ok with that."

Dean's frown deepened. "Fish tacos."

"Phishtaco," Sam corrected automatically. Then his expression lit with recognition. "I thought she looked familiar! Wait. Where's Gwen?"

o0o

Scented smoke wafted through the cabin. A nature track played sounds of running water and birdsong underscored by a soft piano melody. The boat rocked gently in the Amazon's waters. Maritza's voice was soft and soothing as she led Gwen through a breathing exercise.

"Draw the breath slowly in through the nose, then exhale to the count of ten." Her strong hands massaged Gwen's neck and shoulders, and Gwen let her entire body sink into the massage table. She could almost fall asleep.

"Gwen!" Dean's familiar bellow rattled the walls. Footsteps stampeded the hallway. The door to the massage room banged open. Gwen yelped, twisted to see who was there, and tumbled off the table. She landed in a heap on the floor.

"Get your hands off her!" Dean stood in the doorway, his fierce glare fixed on Maritza.

"Gwen! Are you ok?" Sam crouched by Gwen's side, and she wrapped the sheet tightly around her chest.

"I was! What are you doing?"

"Have you lost any weight? Do all your clothes fit ok?" Dean demanded.

"What?" Gwen twisted the sheet into a makeshift dress so that she could climb to her feet and glare at her uncle properly. "It's a massage, not a workout-"

"She's not a real massager!"

"I am a licensed massage therapist, Mr. Winchester!" Maritza gestured to the plaque on the wall. "Just because my diet is different than yours doesn't mean I can't have a good job."

Dean's mouth snapped shut, but his glare didn't waiver. Behind him, Mary was on tiptoe trying to see over his shoulder.

"Diet?" Gwen asked. She juggled the sheet so that she could shimmy into her shirt without revealing anything.

Sam grimaced. "She's not human. She is a phishtaco. She eats human fat."

"Ah! So you do remember. Then you should also remember that I don't kill people," Martiza said.

"Yeah." Dean said grudgingly. "I remember. And your friends?" He jerked his thumb toward the hall, where Castiel stood guard over Beatriz and Inez.

Inez ducked under Castiel's blade and stepped forward with a friendly smile, perfect for a PR photo shoot. "We represent the Association of Latin American Vegetarians. We just want to talk."

"You took my machete and my gun," Sam said, glowering.

Beatriz smiled, showing her fangs. "Like she said, we want to _talk_."

o0o

They assembled in the dinning room; three monsters, four humans, and an angel.

"Not human?" Gwen said for about the tenth time. "I mean-but the only way you're different from us is that you eat-"

"Humans," Beatriz said. "We eat bits of humans. I drink blood."

"But you can choose to be nice. You don't have to be-"

"Bad? Terrible? Awful, horrible things that will attack you in the night?" Martiza offered. "Most of our kind are like that. There are only a few of us who choose not to kill to get what we need."

"I didn't know monsters could do that," Mary said. She was staring at Beatriz as if she had never seen a vampire before. "Honestly, I didn't know monsters could act very human at all."

"Most hunters don't bother to pay attention," Inez said. "The British Men of Letters kill anything non-human that steps on their island, no questions asked. Most hunters here shoot first and ask questions later. But we heard the Winchesters were different."

"They are very different," Castiel said mildly. "Sam and Dean are not like most humans. Or like most hunters. They're really very strange, if you think about it-"

Dean opened his mouth to stop the angel, but Sam beat him to it. "We don't kill if you don't kill."

"But that doesn't explain why you decided to take over our cruise ship just for a private interview," Dean said. He muttered to Sam, "I told you it was odd that we were the only family booked in for this cruise. There are like four empty cabins."

Sam ignored his brother. "So what did you want to talk about?"

"The problem you're having back home," Beatriz said. "The reason you are here."

"We're here for vacation!" Dean said.

"And because I killed that Woman of Letters," Gwen put in.

"And because I'm not dead anymore," Mary added.

"You also don't know how to handle the fact that Lucifer is free again," Castiel offered.

Dean turned to glare at each of them. "Ok. So we're here to sort out some family matters."

Inez frowned. "So you aren't running away from the Men of Letters?"

"No!" Dean's response was defensive. "We took care of that before we left. Show them, Sam."

"Um, Dean. We need to talk about that. We might actually have a problem going back home. There is a small army camped out on our doorstep," Sam said. But he pulled out the laptop and called up the security camera feed. He stared at the images on the screen, wide-eyed. "Uh-oh."

"What?" Dean leaned in and his face fell. "Oh, that's not good."

The vegetarians shared a glance, then came around the table to hover behind the Winchesters. Eight faces leaned over the laptop.

The scene on screen was familiar. The drive that led up to the bunker was lined with SUVs. Men and women in military-style gear moved between small structures that had been erected by the bunker's door.

"Friends of yours?" Martiza asked.

A man and a woman lay beneath a tall oak tree, both dressed in flannel. Both bound hand and foot. Both looking extremely irritated.

"Jody!" Gwen gasped.

"Garth," Dean sighed.

"When did that happen? We checked in last night." Sam hastily called up the other cameras just to make sure there weren't more surprises.

Dean shook his head. "No, we checked it at the hotel two nights ago. Before we boarded the boat."

"They look like they're ok," Mary said. "Just a black eye."

"Something else is happening." Sam slapped the table and drew their attention to a camera at a different angle. A new SUV pulled up and a woman stumbled out, her long hair dishevel, her face defiant. She spoke with her hands, despite the fact they were zip-tied together.

Sam's eyebrows rose. "Wow, I don't know what some of those mean, but-"

"Eileen's got a dirty mouth." Dean sounded proud.

A burly man grabbed Eileen by the shoulder and marched her toward the bunker's door. He gestured meaningfully to the metal barricade, then held up a pad of paper in front of her. Eileen stared at the text, then looked up and shook her head.

"They think one of your friends knows how to open the door," Mary said.

Eileen gestured emphatically with her hands, and received a smack on the face from the burly man. Then he swung the gun around to point at Garth and Jody.

"This isn't good." Castiel said.

"We have to do something!" Dean growled.

"What?" Sam demanded. "We're too far away."

"And I don't have my wings," Cass said.

"We put up all those spells to protect the bunker, but nothing to protect the outside," Gwen lamented.

"That's it!" Dean slapped her on the shoulder, eyes blazing with an idea. "It's part of that new spell I showed you. I almost forgot." Dean called up a different camera feed and pointed to the sigil painted on the bunker's interior. "This spell protects the bunker, but it can also project a guardian. Like an avatar in a video game. It defends our allies outside the bunker."

Sam stared wide-eyed at Dean. _Seriously_? He didn't say it out loud.

 _Worth a try_. "Think scary. You'll see. Any second now."

"Scary." Castiel's eyes narrowed, staring at the screen. "Something these humans consider scary."

The screen flickered. For a moment the picture went black. When it came back, a new figure filled the picture.

Beatriz yelped and jumped away from the laptop. "What the hell is that?"

"No. Way." Sam didn't believe his eyes. "That's not possible."

"Yes. Way." Dean slapped his brother's shoulder. "Awesome!"

o0o

 _At the bunker…_

"How are you doin', Jody?" Garth asked in low voice. He had stopped trying work his way out of the zip-ties a few hours ago. They only dug deeper into his skin, making his wrists bleed. The Men of Letters had even etched little symbols into the plastic so that his werewolf-strength was of no help.

"You're the one with a shiner," Jody replied. Her narrowed eyes tracked the movements of their captors around the camp. "You figure out who these people are yet?"

Garth shook his head. "No. Any idea where Sam and Dean got off to?"

"Vacation," Jody said. "They're on a road trip down to South America. They put me in charge of answering their phones and re-routing hunts. I don't expect them back for another month."

"A month, huh?" Garth leaned his head back against the tree. "Well, that gives us time to find a way to escape and go warn them."

"You're a glass-half-full kind of guy, aren't you?"

Their conversation was interrupted by a new arrival. The now-familiar SUV pulled up and another hunter was shoved out. Jody had not met Eileen, but she had heard about her from Dean. At length. Wondering if his brother had finally found a girl who could join their hunting life. Wondering if Sam would ever get around to asking her out.

Sam had never mentioned her, but that wasn't unusual.

"I you don't know where the Winchesters are, you at least know how to get into their home. Or have some idea where they hide the spare key?" Ketch's tone was irritatingly polite as he pressed a gun to Eileen's head.

Jody had decided on the long drive here from Sioux Falls, with a bag over her head and nothing to do but listen to him prattle, that Ketch would be the first to die when she finally got lose.

"Man, I wish I knew sign language!" Garth was watching the interplay between Ketch and Eileen with a smile. "Somehow, I don't think I should repeat any of that in polite company."

Jody snorted. "Well, best figure her into whatever escape plan you're cooking up."

"I haven't got one," Garth said dejectedly. "They took all my knives and lock picks, these cuffs are warded, and they're all too well trained to get close enough for me to kick one in the head."

"I know," Jody grumbled. She winced as Ketch smacked Eileen across the face, but caught the lady hunter's eye and gave her a supportive nod.

A small vibration ran through the ground underneath them, like a warning tremor straight out of a movie. Everyone in the camp paused. There was another tremor, and the door to the bunker rattled on its hinges. Ketch and Eileen both took a step back.

"Grrraaaarrrr!" The roar made the ground shake again. A shadow covered them all, blotting out the sun. All eyes turned to look up, up, up at the white giant that loomed behind them. Its arms and legs were fat, puffed marshmallows each the size of a car. A small cap perched on its head.

Jody squinted at the words etched on the cap. Garth read them slowly. "Stay Puft. Alright, Sam and Dean defiantly have to explain that one when they get home. We might want to duck."

Both hunters rolled sideways and reunited behind the tree. Across the camp, Men of Letters dropped weapons, books, and expensive equipment that shattered as each dived for cover. All but Ketch, who stood with his tiny handgun raised toward the white giant.

"What. Is. That?"

"I think it's a monster made out of marshmallows." The response came from the small Irish man who had attempted to have tea with Jody the evening before Ketch put a gun to her head and shoved her into the SUV. Mick had made sure that she had food, water, and bathroom breaks as long as she had been in camp. Of the British invaders, he was the one she _didn't_ hope got squished flat.

"That isn't possible!" Ketch snapped.

"Of course. Impossible. That's why it's standing right there!"

The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man slowly stepped forward again, every movement making the ground vibrate. His foot landed on the black SUV, smashing it flat as if it were a bug. Two Men of Letters screamed and ran down the road. The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man picked up a black truck and started to shake it. Three more Men of Letters scattered, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man hurled truck at Ketch. He dived between the Marshmallow Man's legs and emptied his handgun into its legs. Marshmallow goo spurted from the holes, covering Ketch in sticky cream. Ketch fumbled to reload, but his gun was now covered in marshmallow fluff, locking the empty clip in place.

Ketch dropped the gun and ran.

"We should get out of here." Eileen dropped to her knees beside Jody and Garth. She tugged at their bonds, but couldn't break the plastic zip-ties.

The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man lumbered closer, one hand reaching toward them. Jody closed her eyes and pressed her face into the trunk of the tree.

"Well, thank you kindly sir!" Garth said.

The shaking had stopped. Jody turned to see Garth take a knife from the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, who nodded and stepped back. Eileen took the knife and cut their bonds.

"Are you ok?"

"I think so. You see a giant man made out marshmallows too, right?"

Eileen laughed, but nodded. "Yes."

Garth stepped toward the white giant, the smile never leaving his face. "Do you think he tastes good?"

"Don't threaten to eat him!" Jody snapped.

The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man took one last look around the wrecked clearing, nodded once, and then exploded. Marshmallow good shot in all directions, covering the Men of Letters' cars, camping gear, and equipment in white, sticky good that would dry with the consistency of cement.

Garth wiped marshmallow fluff from his face and licked his fingers. "Mmm-mm!"

o0o

 _Lebanon, Kansas…_

"Dad, did you see that?" Casey, age ten, squinted at the trees just outside of Lebanon from his perch in the back of his father's pick-up truck, which was half-loaded with sacks of feed.

Jake, face white, shook his head and put his back to the trees where, moments before, a giant with a white head and a jaunty cap could be seen above the foliage. He hefted another sack and continued loading the truck as if nothing had happened. "No, son. I didn't see anything. Did you pops?"

"Best not to say," Case's grandfather advised. He had shuffled out of the shady awning in front of the supply store to stare with the rest of them. Now, he pulled a cigarette from the bib pocket of his overalls and placed it in his mouth without lighting it. "Been strange things happening in those woods ever since Abraham McGee sold that piece of land to the men from the city ninety years ago. Best to stay out of it."

"Um-grandpa-" Casey pointed at three figures on the road, all wearing flannel, all mud-stained and bruised, all covered in white, sticky goo.

"Hi!" The tallest woman spoke as they approached. "We had a little trouble on the road. Could we get a ride? Maybe use your phone?"

"And I'd like a bath!" This was from the skinny man with a black eye.

Casey stared, eyes wide. His father put his hand under Casey's chin to shut his gaping mouth. "Yeah, I think we can help with that."

"Hmpf." Casey's grandfather spit out his cigarette and glared at the newcomers. "Jake, go inside and buy all the salt they have in stock."

o0o

"Awesome. So awesome!" Dean pumped his fist in the air. "Go Ghostbusters! Whose idea was that, anyway?"

Castiel shrugged. "Well, I just thought of a move that contains many things humans find scary. And then I picked the scariest thing in the movie."

Sam pointed to the screen, where marshmallow goo dripped from the trees. "That was your idea?"

"What was that, anyway? There was not a giant marshmallow man in Ghostbusters," Gwen said.

Dean clasped his chest as if he had been injured. "You haven't seen the original? Movie night. Tonight. On the plane. On the way home." Dean closed the laptop and looked up at Martiza. "Turn the boat around. We have to get back to Kansas. Now."

"No," Sam said.

"What?" Dean rounded on his brother. "Sammy, you saw what happened! Sure our friends are safe for now, but those Men of Letters are still out there. It's us they're after."

"Dean, it will take us days to get back, even if we fly." Sam looked to Maritza. "Keep going."

"Wait-you still want to go on your little jungle hike?" Dean stared at his brother in disbelief. "Sam! Vacation is over!"

"This is more important, Dean." Sam pulled a photocopy of an antique map out of his pocket. "This is-"

"Yeah, some stupid rare flower that you want to-" Dean paused, finally taking a good look at the page. "Wait a minute. You're hunting a were-jaguar?"

"No! The jaguar is the guardian of a grove of flowers with healing properties. Healing properties that work on supernatural beings. Like angels."

Dean turned from his brother to look at Cass. The angel smiled: a rare sight. "There is a chance this flower could be used in a potion that would restore my wings."

"If we get this flower, and it works-"

Dean held up a hand before Sam could go any further. Enough had already been said. "Why didn't you tell me about this before? Where did you get this?"

Sam squirmed. "A Man of Letters approached me." Inez, Beatriz, and Martiza all grimaced, and Sam hastily corrected himself. "Not-not a Man of Letters, I guess, a Literato. He gave me a binder full of photocopies of pages from books from their library. It's all really useful stuff, Dean." Sam gestured to the laptop. "We need a strategy. I didn't recognize half the stuff the British used when they were trying to get into the bunker. They have spells and technology we have no idea how to deal with. Teaming up with Los Literatos might not be a bad idea."

"We can arrange a meeting," Inez offered. "No one wants to see the British take over this continent. That's why we're here. We want to help."

"An alliance of monsters, Literatos, and Hunters?" Dean rolled the idea over slowly. It was full of possibility.

"I say we do it," Gwen said. "Dad's right. We are never going to be able to go home with those guys banging on the door."

"Now that they're going after your friends, I don't think we have a choice," Mary added. "I think vacation's over."

"Alright." Dean tapped the photocopy in Sam's hand. "We'll see if this flower does what it's supposed to do. Martiza! Take us into the jungle."

 **NOTE: Martiza was the monster in Season 9 episode "The Purge"**

 **Well, what did you think? Please Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wings**

"So, we're looking for a rock that looks like a jaguar?" Dean scanned the surrounding vegetation with a scowl. He didn't like the great outdoors much. Never had. He liked a motel room with magic fingers. He liked to know there was a fast-food joint just around the corner. He liked road signs that clearly pointed the way, and maps that were labeled in English.

"No, it was a tree that looks like a flower." Gwen leaned over Sam's arm to look at the map. "Or has a flower carved into it?"

"How about a nice big arrow that says, 'angel wings this way!" Mary smacked at a mosquito, dug into her bag, and blew a cloud of bug spray across her arms and legs. Again. She agreed with Dean about the great indoors.

" You know how these old maps are. It's all cryptic riddles and landmarks. I can't just put coordinates into the GPS." Even Sam was sounding irritated. "It's the jaguar head first, that's the first turn off. Then we find the flower carving."

"Sounds more like a scavenger hunt than a map. " Gwen scanned the trees, which rose high above them and obscured the sky.

"Right? I mean, if they want to be able to find the place again, which is the whole point of making a map, why not make the directions a little clearer?"

"Well, landscapes change over time." Cass had gotten better and regocnizng sarcasm and rhetorical questions, but today he was too excited to noitce. "Erosion changes rock. Plants grow. Rivers change course. After a thousand years, things can look very different."

Dean's only reply was to grunt and whack at the vegetation with his machete. Not that he needed to. They were on a trail that had been designed to keep tourists from getting lost. "Why is this ancient grove of magical flowers so close to a tourist trap, anyway?"

"Well, it probably wasn't a tourist trap when they planted it," Gwen offered.

"Stop!" Sam held up his hand pointed to a large rock obscured by vines and hanging flowers. It was set back from the trail, cloaked in shadow. Except for two points of light that glowed white. "What does that look like to you?"

Castiel cocked his head to one side and took step closer. The glow grew brighter. "I sense-something."

"I think it's responding to you," Mary said. She stepped off the trail and picked her way to the giant stone. Sam and Dean followed and helped her peel back the vines to reveal a large gray stone shaped like a cat. The features were soft and indistinct, faded away by years of erosion. But the twin eyes glowed and the nose pointed to a space between two trees that stood side by side, like sentinels guarding a doorway.

"Ohhhh. That's cool." Gwen's voice was hushed in awe.

"It could be a trap," Dean said.

"But Maritza, Inez, and Beatriz were so nice!" Gwen said.

"Yeah, they were fattening us up for whatever friends of theirs are living out here," Dean muttered.

"I did not sense that they were lying," Cass said.

"They looked awfully dissapointed we didn't let them come along," Mary said, her tone wary. "If we get lost in there, can we find our way back?"

Sam held up his compass. "Sure we can. Bobby Singer taught us how to find our way in the woods."

"That was a different kind of woods," Dean muttered. But Castiel was already ahead of them, walking toward the doorway between the trees as if he hadn't heard a word the others said.

Sam looked down at Gwen. "Maybe you should go back to the boat. Mom can take you. You guys can wait with Las Vegetarianas."

Gwen pressed her lips firmly together. "No. I'll stay."

"It might not be safe," Sam said.

Gwen nodded. "I know."

Sam looked to Mary. "Last chance to stay out of this. Cass is our friend, we have to help him. But you don't need to be here."

"He's my friend now too," Mary said. "Let's go."

o0o

The world was dark; deep twilight had fallen. Nighttime insects began their singing, while the creatures of the day folded themselves up in their dens to sleep. A soft glow could be glimpsed between the trees, growing stronger as the darkness deepend.

"Moonlight glows at noon." Sam looked up from the map and consulted his watch. "Yep. It's 3 pm. Nowhere near late enough to be this dark. That's the last sign."

"Was there supposed to be some kind of guardian?" Dean's eyes searched the shadows, his finger never leaving the trigger.

"A shaman or a jaguar god, the texts don't agree," Sam said.

"I don't see anything." Mary's eyes travled from the trees to the ground. "There's nothing moving up there at all. It's too quiet."

Lightning crackled through the sky. The light illuminated the sillouhette of a woman wearing a jaguar skin. She stood on a gaint boulder, long claws protruding from her fingers.

"Who dares enter the sacred domain of the jaguar?!" Her voice was deep and it boomed across the clearing as if carried by a well-hidden sound system. "It is forbidden to enter here! Any who try to take the sacred flower will die."

"Look, I don't want to kill you." Dean said, his tone friendly. "You're just doing your job, and I bet this jaguar god of yours isn't the best boss. But we're here for that flower, and we can't leave without it."

"Speak! What is your name?" Behind the shaman, drums rattled.

"Just like Jumanji," Gwen muttered. She latched onto Sam's elbow. "Drums aren't good."

"If she asks 'what is your quest' next.." Dean muttered. Gwen giggled, and Dean gave her a wink.

"I am Sam Winchester."

"Sam Winchester, it is forbidden to enter-wait, Winchester?" The shaman held up her hand, and the drums stopped. She peered down at the company of travelers in front of her. "But there are five of you."

Di-doo-doo. An elecronic beeping rang out over the sudden awkard silence.

"Yes, and we aren't leaving here with a sacred flower!" Dean said. "We didn't come here for a fight-"

"That's why you brought your guns, of course," the shaman said.

Ddi-di-dood-doo. The music grew louder, the eletronic sound jarringly out of place in the errie semi-darkness of the ancient, sacred gove.

Sam rolled his eyes and put his hand out to push Dean's gun down. "Can we talk about this? We're here to help a friend..."

"Wait." Dean cocked his head, listening to the strange music. "Is that Mario brothers?"

The shaman straightened. "No!" But she cast a glance behind her shoulders, and then dropped her forehead into her palm. "Father! What are you doing? We have intruders!"

At the bottom of the boulder, a wizened old man wearing a white jaguar skin that matched his white hair sat hunched over a handheld video game, eyes intent on the screen. "Nobody touches a flower until I beat my high score!" He didn't even spare a glance for Mary and Dean, who were trying to sidle around the other side of the boulder. "That means you! Stop!"

Dididi-oo-oo0ooo. The cheery music fell flat as Mario plunged to his fiery death.

"Look what you made me do!" The elder shaman finally looked up at the visitors. "Didn't someone warn you not to come here? We can't just give out magic to anyone who asks."

"Not even if we say please?" Gwen asked. "Dad, show him your laptop!"

Sam's head snapped down to stare at Gwen, betrayed. "No!"

"Laptop?" The elder shaman stepped closer, eyes bright. "What is this laptop of which you speak?"

Dean grinned. "Well, they've made a few improvements to video games." He squinted at the Gameboy in the elder's hand. "That thing must be twenty years old. How do you get batteries?"

"I took it off the last white people who were stupid enough to try to come here. And I don't need batteries." The shaman smiled, showing teeth that had been filed to points. "Now begone! The treasure we guard is not for you."

"And I don't want it for me. I want it for a friend," Dean said.

"Father, he claims to be a Winchester!" The younger shaman pointed at Sam.

"Nonsense. Who are the extras?" The elder waved a hand at Gwen and Mary.

"Grandfather, he's wearing a trenchcoat!" This voice was younger and came from the trees above. Five Winchesters looked up to see branches filled with jaguars, and one young boy in a loincloth. He pointed at Castiel.

"Yes I wear a trenchcoat," Castiel said.

"You are the angel," the boy said.

"Yes."

A hush fell over the forest. The elder shaman rose to his feet and came to stand nose-to-nose with Castiel. "Angel? Show me your wings."

Castiel straightened his shoulders and began to glow, chasing away the artificial twilight. Sun cut through the rainforst canopy again, highlighting the shadow of his brunt wings.

"Ah!" The elder shaman gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth. Then he stepped aside with a flourish, opening the way to the angel. "Please. Take whatever you need."

"That's it?" Dean asked.

The shaman shrugged. "The sacred flower is for angels. Not humans."

o0o

 _Meanwhile, in Lebanon, KS..._

"Form ranks!" The fire chief popped a whistle in his mouth and blew a shrill blast. The young men and women of Lebanon, Kansas scrambled to form straight lines. Or something that resembled straight lines. The half who had been in marching band in high school managed it just fine. The others formed a half-hearted squiggle behind them.

Archie Mayhew, who had just returned from a stint in the military, hung his head in shame. Oh, well. It wasn't really important. The entire town seemed intent on humoring the few elders who insisted that something bad would come out of the old, abandoned bunker some day. But everyone knew that the giant in the woods had been a hoax. It was the Stay Puft Marhsmallow Man from Ghostbsuters, for goodness sake!

Someone had probably made up a giant balloon, like they used for parades in big cities.

Yet here they were, doing salt drills. Every able-bodied person between the ages of fifteen and thirty had been equipped with a giant bin of salt. Which they were to launch at anything 'out of the ordinary' that they saw around town.

Apparently, somebody had set aside the leftovers after every winter for the past fifty years. There was plenty to go around.

Across the street, police chief was busy showing off the weapons stockpile to the strangers. The ones who had walked out of the woods covered in sticky goo. Marhsmallow goo. Apparnetly Jacey Holmes, aged five, had sampled it and confirmed this fact to the entire town.

"Now we've got your standard iron tools. Crow bars. Old farm equipment. Fire irons." The chief ran his hands over the collection. "Then there's the silver. That's harder to come by, but every time there's an estate sale we get something good. Candlesticks, tableware." He tapped at a tarnished spoon.

"Do Sam and Dean know about all this?" Garth asked.

The chief shook his head. "No, never metioned it. We'd prefer if they kept their business to themselves, ya' know?"

Jody snorted. "I know the feeling."

"So, what are we up against?" the chief asked. "Giants? Bigfoot? Gozer? What do we need?"

"As far as I can tell, they are evil British people. I called a friend at the FBI," Jody said. She looked down the road that led out of town, as if expecting to see an army of black sedans pull up at any moment. "They should be along soon."

The chief gestured to the trees in the distance, which still dripped with the remnants of marshmallow fluff. "But-what about all that?"

"Well, if you have a flamethrower, that might help," Garth offered.

"That won't happen again. At least, I hope it won't happen again," Jody said.

"With Winchesters, you never know," Eileen said.

"Gah!" The police chief jumped half a foot into the air as a sharp draft blasted the three hunters from behind. They turned to see a trench-coated angel looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Is everyone alright?" He cocked his head slightly as the chief of police snatched up a corwbar and candelabra and held them aloft like twin swords.

"What are you? Stay back! SALT PATROL!"

Across the street, twenty heads turned in unison. The impromptu militia let out a yell. The fire chief blew his whistle until his cheeks turned red. Castiel's eyes widened. Twenty bags of salt emptied over the angel's head.

Salt scattered across the pavement as the angel vanished in a puff of air and feathers.

Eileen clamped a hand over her mouth to hide her laugh. Garth's mouth dropped open, and Jody just shook her head.

Castiel re-appeared behind the hunters, a wide smile on his face. He placed a hand on Jody's shoulder, and the town of Lebanon vanished.

o0o

"Where are we?" Jody's face was a little green as she landed. She blinked and stared at the motel room. A gust of air indicated that Castiel had vanished again, and a moment later he was back with a a wide-eyed Garth.

"La Aldea de la Selva Lodge. " Gwen smiled and slurped on her Sonic limeade.

The Winchesters were all there, and three women Jody didn't recognize, surrounded by an assortment of food from every corner of the continental US, and every corner of the world.

Mary munched on a dumping, frowned, and passed it to Sam. "Nope. You're right. The dumplings from Xiahe, Gansu are better. Want to try, Dean?"

Dean shook his head. He had a mouth full of cheesy chili fries. "No."

"Do you want something?" Sam asked, using sign as Eileen had now arrived.

"Anything. From anywhere," Castiel said.

"Try to think of a place he can't go," Gwen challenged.

"I can go anywhere now," Castiel said.

"I would love an Irish leek and potato soup," Eileen said.

Castiel vanished.

"Don't worry, you can put your orders in when he gets back," Dean assured Garth and Jody.

"Um-shouldn't we be-getting weapons together? Making a strategy? There is some nasty British secret society trying to get in your front door," Jody said.

Dean cleaned off his hands and his face grew serious. "I know. I'm sorry about that. I never guessed they would come after you."

"You'll be safe here until we get a strategy together," Sam assured.

"What was that thing?" Garth pointed over his shoulder, even though he wasn't sure which direction Kansas was from here.

Dean grinned. "Pure genius, that's what it was!"

Castiel reappeared with a bowl of steaming hot soup, which he set in Eileen's hands, before he vanished again.

"How long is he going to keep that up?" Mary asked.

"No idea," Sam said.

"How is he paying for it all?" Gwen asked.

Dean frowned and checked his wallet. "My credit card."

Sam grinned and stuffed another dumpling in his mouth. "You're the one who said you were hungry after he brought us here."

"So, do we jut sit around and eat all night? Or do we have a plan to stop these guy?" Eileen asked. She settled next to Sam with her soup and claimed a dumpling.

Dean grinned and gestured for everyone to sit. "Oh, this is a war council. We've made a few friends, and they all want in."

There was a flushing sound, and a woman in a jaguar skin walked out of the bathroom. She sat down crosss-legged next to Mary and helped herself to some Moo-shoo pork.

"What have you been up to?" Eileen asked.

Sam grinned. "It's a long story. It ends with Dean giving away my laptop. For no good reason."

"We had to trade it for Cass's wings!"

"He had already fixed Cass's wings!"

"Heartbreak! Danger! Redemption! I love a good story!" Huey and Tlaloc had landed on the sill of the open window. Huey's eyes alighted on the feast, and he beamed. "And good food!" He snapped his figners and a giant disco-ball appeared on the ceiling, casting colored lights across the walls.

Maria crashed into the window with a grunt and glared at Tlaloc. "I am never travelling by thundercloud again."

"You could have waited for me. " Castiel stood in the center of the group with a bag of take-out in his hand. "I can take you anywhere you want to go."

Maria just shook her head and headed toward the bathroom with a mutter of, "Winchesters. Everyone says crazy things happen to people who get mixed up with Winchesters."

Tlaloc beamed at the Castiel. "You are feeling better, friend, I can tell."

The angel smiled. "Yes. Much better, thank you."

"Want to race?" Tlaloc asked.

There was a rush of air, and both pagan god and angel vanished.

"Hey!" Dean yelled at the empty space. "We're gonna need more food!"

There was a knock on the door. Sam set his plate aside. "I'll get it." He cast a glance over the motley assembly. What would Los Literatos think of them all?

o0o

 _FBI offices, somewhere in the Midwest_

"Boss, we've got a hit on that serial credit card fraud case!" A young anlyst popped his head up from his computer to flag over his supervisor.

A woman in a black suit marched across the office to peer over the analyst's shoulder at his computer screen. "Looks like. Take the data and...what's that?" She pointed to a new red flag that popped up on the map.

"Um..." The analyst tapped at his keyboard for a moment. "Hm. It looks like the same card was swiped in New York."

"But the first purhcase was in New Orleans."

"Yes. That's odd..." Another red flag popped up. "Ok, we've got another purchase. In Tibet."

"Tibet? So they're shopping online. That's a different department.."

"No, sir." The analyst shook his head. "The actual card was used at each location. It has a chip and everything. Can't be duplicated."

"Well, someone duplicated it," his supervisor said. "Looks like you just earned yourself some overtime. Figure this out. ASAP."

The analyst grimaced, but knew better than to argue. "Yes, sir."

o0o

 **Please Review!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Last Night**

"Are you sure that we have time for this?" Gwen was turned out in her best jeans, as shirt full of spangles, and heels. Her hair cascaded over the shoulders in beachy waves, something she hadn't bothered to make it do for the past few weeks, what with having bed-head from being smushed in the back seat so often. It had taken some quality time with the hairdryer and curling iron, but she had finally wrangled a look she was proud of.

Mary had done the same, and three hours later, they had made a pact to get their hair chopped short at the next stop. Her shirt proudly displayed the Beatles, all four of them in black and white. She was wearing wide smile, the genuine kind that Dean hadn't seen a lot of during this trip.

Well, the Beatles had been one of her favorite bands, and they were headed for a Beatles tribute concert.

"It will take Jody and the others a little while to get everyone in position," Dean said. He was wearing his cleanest pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a guitar plastered across the front and swirling letters. The shop owner had assured Dean that the Portuguese phrase was something akin to 'rock'n'roll never dies', which Dean found acceptable to concert-going. "We can have one last night. Music. Beer. Family. The perfect end to a perfect vacation."

"Perfect vacation?" Sam asked, one eyebrow raised.

Dean shrugged. "It's the only vacation I've had, so yeah. I thought it was pretty good."

"But the Men of Letters, and all of our friends are ready to help, and-" Gwen fidgeted with her hair. "It just seems wrong to go have a wild and crazy night with so much going on."

"You get used to it." Sam wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "Dean's right. Everyone needs time to get into place. Jody, Garth, and Eileen need to round up the American hunters. Besides, the drive will take several days. One extra night won't set us back. So we may as well have fun."

A wide smile broke across Dean's face, as if he had been waiting forever to hear his brother say those words.

The phone rang. Gwen picked it up, rattled off a few words in Portuguese, and then announced, "Our ride is here!"

"Ride?" Dean's tone was defensive. He'd already left his Baby behind once on this trip.

"The limo. We have VIP backstage passes. Gwen has family in the band. We get a limo." Mary beamed, refusing to be daunted by Dean's scowl.

Dean looked down at the keys to the Impala, then back up at his brother. He had no expected to be betrayed tonight of all nights. Going to a concert without his Baby?

Sam just watched, waiting, eyebrows raised as he silently laughed at his big brother. "Come one, Dean, it's a limo. You're telling me you don't want to ride in a limo?"

Vacation. It made a man do strange things. Slowly, he set the keys down on the bedside table. "Alright. Let's do this!"

o0o

 _The Buckshot Inn, Smith Center, Kansas_

"Why would the American Men of Letters pick a town that doesn't even have a hotel?" Mick sighed as he finally set his bags down in his room. It had been a long trek from Lebanon, after a long night of hiding in the bushes waiting to see if that _thing_ would come back.

"I have no idea why Americans do anything." Ketch tossed his bags onto the second bed. In the midst of the running and the screaming, someone had lost their credit cards and they only had cash for one room.

Ketch pushed the phone toward the center of the table and nodded to his partner. "Well, go on then. We missed yesterday's check in and the old men will not be pleased."

"Me?" Mick took a step back and shook his head. "I'm not calling this in. What exactly do you think I should say?"

Ketch shrugged. "The Winchesters engaged a spell that we have not seen before, which overwhelmed our forces."

"Oh, yeah, and when they ask about the spell?" Mick crossed his arms. "They'll never believe me."

Ketch didn't believe it himself. He'd been beaten. He'd turned tail and run from a man made of...marshmallows. A giant. A giant made of marshmallows who could crush cars and probably swallow a man whole.

Yes, that was the important part. Forget the part about the marshmallows.

"Then tell them what they will believe," Ketch muttered.

"Oh, if you know what to say, why don't you make the call?" Mick said. "What, don't want to admit you finally met your match?"

"I didn't meet my match, I just didn't have the right weapons on hand," Ketch said.

"What do you think could take that thing out?" Mick raised his hands to indicate the height of the giant marshmallow man. "It was bigger than this building. They haven't got anything in the arsenal that can handle it. We're not getting into that bunker."

And there is was. The reason no one wanted to phone home.

"Right. You tell them that," Ketch said. He emptied his gun and set it out on the table for a cleaning. "See how well it goes over."

Mick swallowed hard and sat down on his bed. "So, you think we should get our stories straight before we do this?"

o0o

The pre-show party in the back of the limo left a little something to be desired. The website gave assurances that the limo could fit 12-15. The people who measured limo interiors clearly had not had Winchesters in mind.

"Somehow, I thought that when I finally got to ride in a limo, there would be enough leg room." Sam's tone was mournful as he stared at his knees, which were tucked up nearly touching his chin.

"What are you talking about? The Impala has plenty of leg room," Dean said.

"Not since I turned sixteen and got taller than you," Sam replied.

There was leg room, plenty of it. But it was filled with twelve other sets of legs, and feet, and purses for the ladies. Las Vegetarianas, two pagan gods, a jaguar shaman, a hunter, a Literato, four Winchesters, and one angel were packed like sardines into the seats. Everyone had jumped at the chance for free tickets to a Beatles-tribute band. And a chance to party with the infamous Winchesters. There was a betting pool going on how many drinks Dean would consume, and how drunk he would actually be after he had consumed them.

"Get your elbow out of my ribs!" Inez muttered.

"That's not my elbow!" Maria responded.

"Oops, sorry," Alejandro shifted, tucking his arm closer to his side.

"I think my foot is falling asleep," Beatriz sighed. She kicked and shifted in the narrow space.

Mary made a face. "Um-I'm not sure I can move."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "I could just take you all there one at a time, and it would be much faster-"

"No!" Gwen would have stamped her foot, but there was no space in the over-crowded back seat which held . "We're on vacation. We're going to a concert. We have VIP passes. And we're riding in the limo!"

Beatriz looked at Huey. "You're supposed to be a god. Can't you make the space a little roomier?"

Alejandro shook his head. "No, pagan gods aren't omnipotent. They can only exert power over a certain sphere of influence."

Huey just shrugged. "Sorry, no music. But trust me, the sound system and acoustics at this concert are gonna be great!"

"Don't draw attention to us!" Tlaloc muttered. "It's one thing to do that stuff back home, we don't know what sort of gods live here. There's something with power running about, I can sense it." He shivered, with a sideways glance at the shaman. She responded with a fierce smile. The woman from the rain forest (no one had yet figured out how to pronounce her name) looked like an average city-dweller now in a t-shirt and jeans, but for her wild hair and the fierce glint in her eyes.

"No one is hunting and no one is using their powers," Dean announced sternly, as if he had any control over what this motley crew did. Say it like you mean it, and it will be true. "We're going to have a perfectly normal, completely awesome night."

The limo pulled up to the curb outside the theater and Winchesters and co stumbled out onto the pavement. The sidewalk was crowded with vendors hawking t-shirts and CDs for the band, as well as the long, zig-zagging line of concert goers waiting for the doors to open.

"Look at this stuff." Dean pointed to a stand hawking t-shirts in his most mocking tone. "It's a bunch of guys who couldn't make it big playing someone else's songs, and they want thirty bucks for a shirt?"

"Fifteen for a CD." Sam was not fooled by his brothers condescending tone. Dean loved music. Good music. Bad music. It didn't matter. "With your VIP pass you get ten percent off."

Dean snorted, but stepped over to the stand, cash already in hand. "Well, we can't arrive backstage empty-handed now can we?"

"Take a picture!" Gwen held up a t-shirt with her grandfather's face and imitated his carefree grin while Mary snapped off a photo with her phone.

"You don't want that one! That's a terrible picture." The man pictured on the t-shirt stood beside them in a black t-shirt and battered jeans. His hair had more gray streaks that the publicity photo would admit to, and his eyes were crinkled with crows feet.

"Abuelo!" Gwen dropped the shirt and flung her arms around her grandfather.

"Did you really drive all the way here?" Toni Torres asked.

Gwen nodded. "Yep. I learned to drive a stick shift."

"Wow." Toni stared at Sam and then Dean. "I am impressed. So, we've got twenty minutes before the show starts. Come, have a drink and tell me all about your adventures!"

"You drink before you go onstage?" Mary asked.

Toni grinned. "But of course! Who wants to hear a sober musician?"

"Hear, hear!" Huey held up the bottle of beer had had already procured, or perhaps had called up out of thin air. "Go, get ready. We will await you in the front row!" He waved the Winchesters away and turned to lead the rest of the group to the front of the ticket line.

Toni ushered Gwen and her family through a door marked 'staff only.' Dean felt a giddy shiver run down his spine. Backstage! He was finally backstage with a real musician.

"Seriously?" Sam could sense his brother's excitement, and decided to break the mood right on cue. "You don't even like the Beatles."

"Well-" Dean's glance shifted toward his mother. He knew she loved the band, but he'd always drifted more toward the Metallica and AC/DC end of the music spectrum. "It's a rock concert and I'm backstage!"

Sam just grinned and shook his head.

Toni ushered them to a small room covered in graffiti. Everything from spray paint to sharpie marker decorated the walls. Hand-prints, signatures, even a lipstick print. It was a tribute to every band that had ever played here. Dean touched the layered paint reverently and grinned. Awesome.

Somewhat less awesome were the two men draped across the worn-out sofas that ringed a coffee table laden with snacks. They all had graying hair that looked a little frayed around the edges. One picked at a guitar. Another sucked down a beer and beat out a staccato beat on his thigh with his fingertips as if he simply wasn't comfortable without a drumstick in hand. They lounged with such a casual attitude. There was no need to warm up or rehearse because they had done this so many times before. None were famous, but all had stuck with their music for the long haul.

That was dedication Dean could admire.

"Where's Roberto?" Toni asked.

The bass player rolled his eyes. "Tucked away out of sight with a lady, what do you think?"

"Bacon!" Mary dived for a plate of h'our devours. Dean followed, then caught sight of the food and backed away quickly. It was bacon, yes, but it was wrapped around asparagus, and fruit, and other things that bacon should never touch.

"Hey! Hey!" The bass player dropped his guitar to defend his food. "We need that!"

"Oh, there's plenty." Toni smacked his band-mate's hand away, kicked his feet off the couch cushions, and sat down in the now-empty space. "Be nice! This is my family."

The bass player raised one eyebrow. "The dead-beat that knocked up your daughter, his brother, and their girlfriend?"

Mary spit out her bacon-wrapped-thing. "Girlfriend?"

"Cousin," Dean said. _Mother_ certainly wouldn't do.

"Dead-beat?" Sam looked as if he'd been punched. He opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it closed again. He had slept with a girl at age fifteen and then left two weeks later never to be seen again.

"Yes." Toni didn't even look embarrassed. "Though I'll give him this. As soon as he knew she existed, he made sure someone else was in charge of raising her."

"Ha!" Toni's band-mate picked up his bass again. "Smart man. Got any requests?"

Dean glanced at his mom. "Hey Jude." Mary smiled. The bass player nodded, and played the opening chords. Toni picked up a guitar and chimed in. Mary set down her plate and closed her eyes, leaning into the music. She started to hum, then to sing.

Dean felt his throat clench. He hadn't heard that sound in over thirty years.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better." Slowly, more voices joined in, until everyone was singing in harmony.

"Nah, nah, nah nah nah nah nah!" The door opened and more voices joined the group. Four men filed into the room, dressed for the 1960s with vintage guitars, vintage suits, vintage haircuts, and vintage faces. Even Sam recognized those faces. He stared and elbowed his brother, who just shook his head and elbowed his mother, who stopped mid-note to stare wide-eyed at her favorite music icons in the flesh.

The Beatles settled into the couch, never missing a beat, their guitars joining Toni's.

"Dean, is that-?"

"John, Paul, George, and Ringo," Dean said, voice hushed. "Circa 1968, judging by their haircuts."

"So, a nice, normal night, huh?"

The last notes of the song faded, and all eyes turned to the man standing in the doorway, the finaly member of Toni's band. "Guys, you will never believe it! I was making out with this girl in the closet and she says, what would you sell your soul for? And I say, to play one night with the Beatles! She says we seal the deal with a kiss, and just when I think I can take this to the next level, these guys show up. In the closet. It was really crowded, and now I can't find the girl."

"Dude." The drummer pointed at one Beatle, then another. "They-I mean-this can't-"

"I know, right!" Robert spread his arms wide, as if the problem were obvious. "They refuse to take their masks off. Claim they aren't wearing any. Say they're here to play and that's that. I say, this could be a really awesome fun show!"

Toni set his guitar outside and looked up at Sam. "So. Father of my granddaughter. Can I talk to you? Outside?"

o0o

Toni stood in the hallway, hands on hips, brow furrowed as he looked Sam up and down. Dean stood at his brother's shoulder, unwilling to let Sam face the in-law alone. Mary stood at the other shoulder, and Gwen was slightly off to one side, ready to jump in between if things got bloody.

Not that Toni had showed any anger toward Sam before. But tonight his face was ashy gray, and his glare gave big brother Dean cause for concern.

"So. Gwen tells me you and your brother know about demons."

Sam's mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again. "I-uh-" He glanced over at Gwen, who nodded. "Yes. Yes we do."

"So you should know that that _that_ -" Toni jerked his thumb toward the lounge and the Beatles. "Is the work of a demon and you need to get Gwen out of here."

Sam nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

"Whoa!" Dean refused to be moved. "We drove to Brazil for this." Dean gestured to the theater around them. "This concert is why we're here. I rode in the backseat of my own car! The Beatles are here! We're not leaving."

"You don't think they're really them, do you?" Mary asked.

Dean nodded affirmative. "Time travel is possible. Who knows? Wouldn't be a real deal worth a real soul if it wasn't the real them, now would it? This concert is going to be awesome. I'm staying."

"Dean, as much I agree this is going to be the best concert ever, if there's a demon here-" Mary began.

"We are on vacation." Dean had made his decision, and he was sticking to it. "No demon killing. The guy's soul is already in hock anyway, and the demon has probably moved on."

"You don't understand!" Toni waved his hands to draw their attention back to him. "This demon, she knows me. She wants me with her in hell."

Sam grimaced. "Ew. Tough luck on girlfriends, man."

"No," Toni growled. "She is not-Her name is Sofia, and she was my cousin. She taught me everything I know about music, and then she sold her soul for ten years of fame. A few years after she died, she started to haunt me. She'll do anything she can to get me to make a deal. Gwen." Toni turned to his granddaughter. "You are the most important person in my world. You're not safe, not if _she'_ s here."

Sam's jaw stiffened, and he nodded. "So we go."

"No!" Dean put his foot down. "Sam, she'll be fine. I mean, it's us! We can handle a regular old crossroads demon."

"Dean, if anything goes wrong-"

"It won't."

Toni's eyes narrowed. "I don't care who you are or what you think you can do, Gwen is not safe-"

"We're the friggin' Winchesters, and we can keep Gwen safe," Dean said. He held up a hand and pulled out his phone. "Hey, Cass? Can you come here? The quick way?"

There was a gust of air, and Toni found himself staring at a man in a trench coat who had not been there a moment before. "What are you?"

"I am an angel," Castiel replied. He took in the tense faces all around. "Is something wrong?"

"Cass, Toni says there is a demon here and it might hurt Gwen to get to him." Sam glared sideways at his brother. "But Dean still wants to stay for the concert."

Cass frowned. "Just one demon? With everyone here, that shouldn't be a problem."

"You can keep her safe?" Toni asked.

"I can smite a demon with a touch," Castiel replied. "She will be safe."

Sam sucked in a deep breath. "I don't like this."

"Relax!" Dean said. "With all of us here, what could go wrong?

o0o

Dean had a new heaven. Yes, setting off fireworks with Sam had been a moment to remember for eternity, but this was better. He had his mother on one side, his brother on the other. Castiel and Gwen were there too, cheering and dancing as the Beatles-the _real_ Beatles-took the stage. Mary cheered so loud Dean thought his ear might burst. But he cheered right along with her. They laughed, they cried, and they sang along at the top of their lungs.

Until a sharp tug at Dean's sleeve brought him face to face with his brother's fiercest glare.

"What?"

"Gwen's not here." Sam's words were sharp and just loud enough to cut through the music that blasted from the stage.

Dean looked past Sam to the row of empty seats beside him. "No one's here. Who would walk out of a Beatles' concert?"

Maria, Alejandro, and Huey, that's who.

Sam shrugged. "They left a while ago. Huey took one look at the Beatles and decided that he needed to find whoever had interfered with the show."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"You were busy. Besides, I thought a pagan god, a hunter and a literato could handle one little demon. But then Gwen went to the bathroom and she hasn't come back."

Dean cast a longing look back at the stage, and frowned when he realized that Toni had abandoned his guitar. With a bad feeling forming in the pit of his stomach, Dean moved to follow his brother out of the theater. There was sulfur in the air, and it didn't matter who was on stage or how far they had come. They were Winchesters, and they had a job to do.

"What did you manage to sneak past security?" Sam asked, certain that his brother hadn't come empty-handed. Yes, they had passed through metal detectors, that but wouldn't stop Dean from getting an angel blade through somehow.

"What?" Dean actually looked surprised at the idea. "Me? I didn't."

"You didn't?" Sam stared. _Who are you and what have you done with my brother?!_

"No! We're on vacation. It's a concert. We have an angel and two pagan gods with us. I thought-"

"Maybe we should go back and get Cass-"

"Nooo!" The cry came from the backstage lounge, and both brothers immediately turned to respond. They burst through the door, despite the fact that they had no weapons of any kind.

Toni stood in front of Maria and Alejandro, his arms flung wide. Gwen was there, tugging as his arms, but Toni wouldn't budge. He glared at the Mexican hunter, who had her gun aimed at the woman cowering behind Toni.

She was dressed in a STAFF t-shirt and jeans, but her eyes were black. "Don't let them hurt me!" she wailed.

"She's a demon! Get out of the way!" Maria snarled.

"She's my cousin! You can't kill her!" Toni shouted back.

Maria rolled her eyes. "I can't kill a demon with a gun! What do you think I am, a Winchester?"

"AAHHHHH!" The demon shrieked at the sight of the brothers and scrambled backwards into the couch. "Winchesters! What are you doing here? I don't go to the States!"

Dean grinned. "We're on vacation." He circled around to cut the demon off from behind. "You ruined the best concert I have ever been to."

Sofia stared. "Ruined? I replaced a tribute band with the real thing!"

"I know! And now I'm here instead of out there watching them!" Dean snapped back.

"Oh. Well...I'll just go! You can get back to the concert. Enjoy!" Sofia tilted back her head and opened her mouth, the demon ready to smoke out.

"Wait!" Sam yelled.

Sofia coughed and blinked at him warily. "What? Oh!" She rolled her eyes and held out a piece of parchment, which burst into flames in her hand. "There, the idiot's soul is free. Happy?"

"No!" Gwen stamped her foot and glared. "You've been stalking my grandfather for fifty years. You don't get to run away and just come back again after we've left."

Sofia raised her eyebrows. "Oh? You want to kill me and break your grandfather's heart?" Sofia turned her wide, scared eyes on Toni.

Toni clenched his fists. "I can't let you kill her."

"Dude, half an hour ago you were worried she would kill Gwen!" Dean said. "Make up your mind!"

"She's family," Toni replied, and Dean deflated.

"Killing her or letting her go are our only options," Maria said. "And we should decide before security gets back here and arrests us all."

"No, we have another option," Sam said, a small smile on his face as he realized the words were true.

"Like what?" Alejandro asked. "Unless you can cure a demon-"

Dean grinned at his brother. "Actually, we can."

Sofia shook her head and gave a nervous laugh. "No. That's impossible. Even for a Winchester..."

Dean grinned. "Nothing is impossible for a Winchester."

o0o

 _Meanwhile, in Sioux Falls South Dakota_

Jody's ear was beginning to ache it had been pressed to the phone for so long. She hadn't realized until today just how many hunters she knew. And across the table, Garth had a list twice as long as her own. Eileen was busy on video conference, and between the three of them, every hunter in the States would be on alert within the day.

"Yes, you heard me right. Those Brits who have been recruiting are bad news."

"Bad news! I'll say. They think some kind of marshmallow man terrorized them out somewhere in Kansas."

Jody nearly choked on a laugh. "Yes, they may be crazy, but not the fun kind! Trust me when I say they're dangerous."

"Dangerous, huh?"

"So say Sam and Dean," Jody replied.

"Winchesters?" There followed the sound of a shot of whiskey being drained very swiftly. "That's bad. They got a plan, you said?"

Jody grinned. She never got tired of this part. "Yes, yes they do. They're mustering an army like you've never seen before."

There was a horrified stretch of silence. "It's bad enough the Winchesters are asking for help?"

"The problem is more that there are so many of them. We want to take them out all at once, instead of having to chase them across the country for a year. We've laid a trap, and everyone is to meet in a week down at the border. Will you be there?"

"Oh, I'll be there. Hellhounds couldn't keep me away!"

o0o

"Where were you guys?" Mary finally found her sons again after the concert, waiting for her by the limo.

Dean and Sam exchanged a look.

"Hospital. Had to track down a coma patient."

Mary stared. "A what? Why? How is that more important than the Beatles?"

"It's a long story," Sam said.

"What about the after party? I thought we were supposed to hang out with Toni."

"He's gone to confession," Dean said. "Then he's got a family reunion to attend."

"What about the rest of our group?" Sam asked, nothing that Las Vegetarianas and their other companions were absent.

"They found a 'really awesome' party to go to," Mary said. "I've got the address if you want to go, but I thought we could do our own thing."

"Limo ride through downtown! Dibs on the sunroof!" Gwen clambered into the limo, only to pop her head out the top a few moments later. She drummed her hands on the roof. "Come on!"

Sam smiled and clambered in behind his daughter, followed closely by Castiel. Dean looked at his mom. "Do you think the Beatles are still backstage?"

She shook her head. "They vanished as soon as the curtain went down. I checked."

"Man!" No autograph and no photo op. "Was it good?"

Mary grinned. "The best." She wrapped her arms around Dean's elbow. "But this is better."

Dean drew her close to his side in a tight hug. "Yeah. This is better. Are you gonna fight Gwen for her spot?"

"You bet!" Mary grinned, and dived into the limo. Dean followed behind and shut the door. Gwen shrieked with glee as the driver pulled out into the road.

 **YAY! One more chapter to go. Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Headed Home**

 _Buckshot Inn, Smith Center, Kansas_

"What do you mean, you can't find a reference to a marshmallow monster outside of a crappy film from the eighties!" Ketch kept his tone civil, but there was still a dangerous edge in his words. His fists clenched: he needed to hit something.

Mick looked up from the computer, then quickly averted his eyes again. "Well, marshmallows date back to ancient Egypt. There could easily be something in an ancient manuscript that was stored in the American chapter house..."

Ketch rolled his eyes, hands on hips. "Oh, what is the point? They're not even in the country. If we want to find the Winchesters, we have to drive all the way-"

A gust of air burst through the room, one feather landing in Ketch's hair. He spun around in time to see a flash of khaki trench-coat, but the angel was already gone. On the desk he had deposited a box of graham crackers, a bag of chocolate bars, and a CD.

"What are these for?" Ketch handled the box of graham crackers carefully, as if it might be a bomb.

"S'mores." When Ketch just glared at him, Mick continued, "They're an American campfire treat made with toasted marshmallows-"

Ketch's glare grew colder. Mick swallowed his words and took the CD, placing it in the laptop's player.

Dean Winchester's face filled the screen, his head topped with a giant cowboy hat and a golden sheriff's star pinned to his chest. He made a finger-gun and pointed it at the screen. "Alright, listen up you Men of Letters! Enough is enough. You've kidnapped my friends, tried to break into my home, and threatened my family. I'm calling you out." He leaned into those last words, drawing them out in terrible imitation of a country drawl. "One week. High noon."

"What are you doing?"

Dean's head turned to reveal Sam standing behind him, arms crossed, his most irritated bitch-face in place. "Seriously? No." Sam snatched the cowboy hat off of Dean's head.

"Hey!" Dean grabbed for the hat, but Sam pulled it out of his reach. Dean lunged, Sam twisted sideways. "I need that!" Dean's elbow collided with the camera, and the entire picture tilted.

"Oh. My. Gosh." A teenage girl's voice rose over the fray, mortified in the way only a teenager can be. "I can't believe I'm related to you-" A hand covered the camera and the picture went dark.

Ketch barked a derisive laugh. "Those were the great Winchesters that everyone is so worried about?"

Mick bit his lip. "Well, they did effectively keep us out of their bunker."

"Give me a chance to meet them face to face and I'll show them—but the morons didn't even manage to get out the address where they want this little showdown to take place. American cowboys." Ketch rolled his eyes.

Another gust of air rushed through the room. Castiel stood between Mick and Ketch, a CD in hand. "Sorry. That was the wrong one." He popped open the laptop, pulled out the first CD, and replaced it. He was gone before Ketch could even make it to his weapon's bag for an anti-angel spell.

Mick just stared at the computer.

"Well, bring it up!" Ketch gestured impatiently.

Sam and Dean both sat side by side, stern faces filling the screen. "Alright. You've made your point. You kidnap our friends, try to break into our home, and try to recruit American hunters to your cause. You wanted our attention, well now you have it." Dean's voice was deeper than before, no trace of amusement in his tone now. "I say we meet and work this out the old fashioned way. Bring your friends. Bring your weapons. We can try to talk, or we can just shoot it out. I don't care. But you need to leave our continent. Now."

"We'll be at Singer Salvage in Sioux Falls South Dakota at midnight one week from today. If you don't show, we will hunt you down. It's a big country, but we know every back road and every hiding place. We will find you."

Dean grinned, his expression letting Ketch know that he hoped the Brit would come, and come armed, because he was spoiling for a fight. "See you in one week."

Mick swallowed hard. "I don't supposed that we could just call it quits and go back home?"

Ketch glared, offended at the very suggestion. "Pack your bag. Summon the others. Find a map. Where is Singer Salvage?"

o0o

Alone. Gwen waved her abuelo away through the airport doors and dropped her arm with a sigh. He was gone, off to another city and another concert. Dad and uncle Dean had left that morning, off to kick some British ass. Leaving Gwen behind.

"Ready?" Mary hefted her bag and moved toward the security line with her ticket and passport in hand.

Gwen smiled. Not alone. Right. She had her grandma—who acted more like an aunt and was technically younger than Gwen's father.

Life as a Winchester was strange.

Mary couldn't replace Gwen's mom, no one could. But having a female companion who got her? It helped. More than Gwen could say. She'd come on this road trip thinking that life could never be sane or normal again.

So had Mary.

Somehow, in the middle of meeting pagan gods, putting a vengeful spirit to rest, and healing angel wings, they had proven themselves wrong. They had also bummed around on the beach, gotten their hair braided, taken a thousand pictures of Amazon wildlife and met the Beatles. Just like any tourist.

Life could be normal again. Maybe not like it was before, but better than it had been after. After mom died. After monsters became real. After she killed a person.

"Do you think we should have gone with them?" Sam and Dean were taking the long way home, and making a little detour on the way.

Mary smiled. "Well, I do wish we could see the faces of those British Men of Letters when Sam and Dean roll in." Her eyes danced at the thought. "But I don't want to be there. I made a decision ten years ago to stop hunting. I know that life will never leave me. Like that ghost in Costa Rica; if there's a problem staring me in the face, I'll take care of it."

"But?" Gwen prompted.

"But my decision stands. Even without John and my boys." She frowned. "They would be happy to have me, but we don't fit the way we used to. They grew up, and I didn't get to see it. Children are supposed to leave home at some point anyway. They have their life, I need to rebuild mine."

"And you want to do that at college with me?"

Mary made a face. "I'm not going to enroll! I know it sounds old-fashioned, but all I wanted was to take care of my family. My boys don't need me to do that. Besides, I thought you said you wanted my company?"

Gwen smiled. "I do! I just want to make sure this is what you really want. Roommate."

Mary returned Gwen's smile. "I like the sound of that."

Gwen's phone dinged, and she pulled up a message from her grandfather. "Hey, do you want to hear the first song my abuelo has recorded with aunt Sofia?"

"That was quick! She's only been human again for twenty-four hours."

"She says she needs to get acquainted with her new body's vocal chords, and abuelo says she needs to get acquainted with modern music. It a Ross Copperman cover." Gwen handed Mary an earbud.

"It's everything you wanted/It's everything you don't/ It's one door swinging open/  
And one door swinging closed/ Some prayers find an answer/Some prayers never know/ We're holding on and letting go "

o0o

"You know they're probably home by now." Sam contemplated the empty back seat through the rear-view mirror. It felt strange to be the only passenger after so long with a full car.

"Yeah, probably," Dean agreed. They had made good time on the drive back, but there was no way Baby was winning any races against an airplane.

"Are you ok with that?" Sam asked.

Dean spared one eye from the road for a wary glance at his little brother. He could feel one of those emotional moments coming on. Sam was getting ready to talk about his feelings. "With what?"

"With Mom staying out of the hunting life. With Mom deciding to go live with Gwen while she's in college. I thought you'd want her to stay with us."

"I did." Dean paused as he let the feelings churning in his gut connect with words that would make some kind of sense.

"Did?" Sam hadn't missed the use of past tense.

"Yeah, well. I've always wished Mom hadn't died, always wondered what life would be like if she was around. But this isn't that, you know?" Dean shook his head. It wasn't coming out right. It never did.

"No, this isn't that," Sam agreed. "I mean, I'm glad Gwen isn't going to hunt. I'm still not sure that it's safe for us to have contact with her. There are so many things out there that would love to kill us. But she proved she can handle herself. I'm not so scared any more. If Crowley comes knocking on her door to try to use her as bait-"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, that's not gonna end well for him."

"Right?" Sam smiled in agreement. "Gwen's gonna be ok. But are you?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm ok. Mom never wanted this life, and I want her to be happy."

"You don't want her to stay with us?"

"She wouldn't be happy with us," Dean said. "Not as long as we're still hunting. She and Gwen have got something good. It's not like Mom's walking out the door and we have no idea where she's going or when we'll see her again. We know exactly where she is, and we've already got plans to meet up next month."

After a moment, Dean added, "It makes a difference, though. Even though she won't be living with us, I know she's safe. I know she's ok. And I know I _will_ see her again." Dean shook his head, not sure how to put the feeling into words.

Sam just smiled and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Dean nodded to the fence looming in front of the road and the long line of cars stopped there. "Border's coming up. Got your passport?"

"Yeah." Sam rummaged in his pockets for the paperwork.

Dean checked his side mirrors and looked at the caravan behind him. Black sedans of Los Literatos, a silver suburban for Las Vegetarianas, a rusty old truck for Maria, and a black Jag. As soon as they passed through the border crossing, a white Sheriff's truck joined the line, followed by Garth's most recent beater, and Eileen's modest gray sedan. More followed. Rust-buckets and shiny new plastic contraptions. Some Dean recognized, some he did not. Driver's negotiated for space within the caravan until the line stretched so far into the distance Dean could no longer see the tail of their little parade. Storm clouds rumbled over head, and occasionally a white feather drifted across the windshield.

Castiel was still enjoying his reunion with his wings and would not be gracing the back seat of the Imapla anytime soon.

Dean grinned at his brother and increased his speed, making the engine roar.

"Those Men of Letters aren't going to know what hit them!"

o0o

The Men of Letters were ready. They had a week to prepare, and sent over their finest. They combed every inch of Singer Salvage for the best hiding places, the bet sniper perches, and the best plan of attack. They had a small army. They had state of the art weaponry. They plans and contingency plans.

They didn't stand a chance.

"What a dump." Ketch kicked at a rusting hubcap as he surveyed the overgrown scrapyard with disdain.

That was his first mistake, although he didn't know it yet.

His first clue came when the Winchester's Impala pulled into the drive without warning from the sentries. His second came when said sentries were spat out of a thundercloud. As if the Winchester's had a helpful giant on call up there who could scoop up annoying people and toss them around at will.

Ketch recalled the incident outside the bunker, and shuddered. In his thundercloud, Tlaloc chucked. It had been too long since he'd had a chance to show off.

Mick started to get a bad feeling about this when he saw the small collection of uniform black sedans amidst the motley caravan that had surrounded Singer Salvage. They each had an Aquarian star hanging in the windshield.

The Men of Letters trump card had always been their superior knowledge, their efficient weapons, and their use of magic. But an Aquarian star meant there were others here who had access to the same knowledge. Of course it wasn't likely they had invested their resources in developing special monster-killing technology.

One could only hope.

The Winchester brothers exited the Impala in sync, moving as one to stand at the head of their small band. Then, just for show, the angel Castiel landed between them, somber eyes promising no compromises today.

Was this the same man who had donned a cowboy hat and sheriff's star, had wrestled like a five-year-old on the floor with his brother? At this moment, all Mick knew was that the Winchesters were pure muscle with deadly intent and decades of experience. They didn't needs guns on clenched fists to make every Man of Letters assembled take a small step back.

Except of course the boss lady and Ketch, who each took one defiant step forward. Maybe they hadn't noticed yet? The Winchesters did have a way to stealing the scene. Had the fearless leaders bothered to look past center-stage at the army amassed behind the Apocalypse bringers?

Ketch's eyes swept over the cars that kept pulling into the salvage yard and sat bumper-to-bumper down the road. More cars than the Men of Letters had. More men than the Men of Letters had.

"Madam, I'm not certain we are equipped for this."

The boss didn't seem to hear, or else she didn't care. She had come here determined that Sam and Dean would not survive. Why should she be afraid of them or their angel? Or the assembly of flannel-clad, shotgun-toting hunters behind them? Men of Letters gave the orders. Hunters obeyed or died.

Somehow, the Americans hadn't gotten the memo. _None_ of the Americans. Flannel and ball caps gave way to khaki and cordobes.

"Our neighbors say you've been causing some trouble around here," Maria stated. "I think it's time for you to go."

"No one tells us what to do," the Woman of Letters in charge replied. "We're here to set this continent in order."

Mick swallowed hard and wondered if there was somewhere else to stand. Or somewhere to hide.

A woman climbed to stand on top of the Impala. She was dressed in a jaguar skin, and her eyes glowed. Around her, men and women with fangs and claws let their hidden attributes snap into view, ready for use.

Ketch mentally counted his weapons inventory. He could take out the vampires and the wolves no problem, but there were creatures here he didn't recognize, things that had been dragged out of the depths of the rain-forest. Where had the Winchesters _been_ these past two weeks?

"No," the jaguar woman said. "No, you will go home."

The boss shifted in her high-heeled shoes. Maybe, this wasn't worth it after all. But she couldn't back down. Not in front of her people. Ketch had been beaten once this trip, he wasn't about to let that happen again. There was no giant in sight. Monsters. Hunters. Literatos. He knew how to deal with these.

"Show them that we mean business," the boss said.

"Gladly." Ketch squared his shoulders and raised his hand in a silent command to the Men of Letters behind him.

o0o

Half an hour later, Dean's hand was sore. The knuckles were bloody and he was going to have a heck of a bruise tomorrow. But it had been worth it. Worth it to smash in the face of the arrogant man who had kidnapped and beaten his friends. Worth it to defend his home. Worth it to fight, really fight again. Beside his brother and his friends. Sam wiped blood from his face, and smiled. He would have a black eye tomorrow, but the Men of Letters would have worse.

Also, it had been fun. Although he felt a little bad about the state of Bobby's old scrapyard. But Dean had a feeling the old hunter wouldn't have cared.

"And stay out!" Dean called after the last of the Men of Letters. Those who had survived the skirmish were slinking away, tails between their legs, to carry the story of their defeat to the bosses back home. Beatriz and Eileen had formed a small company to escort them to their plane and off the continent. Never to return.

Huey raised his hands in the air. "Time for a party!" His words were met with shouts of glee, and a cooler full of beer appeared on the Impala's hood.

Jody grimaced. "Oh, this isn't gonna be good, it is?"

"A hundred drunk hunters all in one place?" Dean grabbed a beer and handed it to her with a grin. "Good? This is gonna be great!"

o0o

The bunker was quiet. No long-lost family members roamed the halls. No enemies lurked in the shadows. Sam and Dean were alone, negotiating their way around the kitchen as each found a breakfast to suit his tastes. Green smoothie with an egg-white omelet. Bacon, hash browns, and eggs with extra yolks. They both knew the drill and didn't have to utter a single word as the coffee slowly warmed them to wakefulness.

"No hangover," Dean said in wonder. "I drank—I don't know. More than I usually do."

Sam frowned. "You sound disappointed."

"I's beer, Sam. You don't mess with beer."

"It was real beer, Dean. Just no hangover. What's the problem?"

"This is just weird. You don't mess with beer, Sam."

Sam rolled his eyes. Sometimes, there was no reasoning with his brother. "Well, Gwen and Mom are arguing about curtains and how big their TV needs to be." Sam had been fully updated last night at the after-party. Which had happened after the main party. "But I'm told that August 25 is moving day, and we are to be at Sioux falls to help load, drive, and unload at the University. No excuses. We are not allowed to have another end-of-the-world emergency on that day."

"We have to go two whole months without a disaster?" Dean snorted into his coffee. "When has that ever happened?"

"So, I found us a case." Sam pulled out his laptop. "It's in-"

Dean put his hand down before Sam could open the screen. "I'll get the keys. Tell me on the way."

Sam grinned and shoved the laptop back in his bag, which was already packed. He knew his brother too well. Dean Winchester had had about as much vacation as he could handle.

Dean settled into the driver seat, his brother beside him, and steered the Impala back onto the road. He smiled as he revved the engine. Nothing was better than the beginning of a new hunt.

The Winchester brothers were back where they belonged. On the road. Saving people. Hunting things. Together.

 **END**

 **Thanks for reading. I hope you had fun! Please review.**


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